Valkyria Chronicles: Flashpoint
by DC20
Summary: After months of combat, Squad 7 is deployed to secure the area surrounding the Marberry beachhead. Suffering heavy losses, the veterans of the unit begin to feel the strain of battle and wonder if any of them will be left alive to see the war's end.
1. Patrol

**A/N: **I've changed the rating from M to T. I'll be going back over the next few days to edit some technical points in several of the older chapters, but otherwise content won't be touched. 780 is staying M. Most of all, though, thanks for reading!

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**Engagement 1: Patrol  
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Ramona blacked out when the stick snapped under her boot. The loud crack rang in her ears, and before she could help herself she'd frozen in place. It wasn't an unfamiliar sound. In fact, it was frighteningly familiar; a quieter brother to the noise of a bullet breaking the sound barrier as it shot past. It hadn't been a bullet. Even though she knew it hadn't been an incoming round, the sound had been enough to make her consider calling the patrol off. Instead, she took a step forward. It didn't make a difference what the sound had been. Either way, she was going to die.

It had been nearly a full year since she'd joined the Militia, but it hadn't been until the last four months that she'd realized what that had actually meant - she was a body in a pair of boots. While she had never pictured herself in combat boots before joining the Militia, she was surprised to find that before the war started she'd actually liked them. They were comfortable, durable, and most importantly matched the combat utilities. It wasn't until recently that she realized they would likely be the last things she would ever wear.

Stopping, she knelt. It was too dark in the forest to see more than a few meters ahead. Moving through the brush was difficult. Communication was even worse. She could talk all day long, but chattering while on patrol got people killed. Hand signals didn't work in the dark, though, and her section couldn't follow her lead if they couldn't see her.

Not wanting to call out, she took her hand off of the foregrip of her rifle and struck her thigh. It wasn't as distinguishing as a voice. When the sound of movement stopped she took another look into the darkness ahead of her. There were plenty of trees in the short distance she could see, and whole lot of brush, but she couldn't see any suits of armor or silhouettes moving through the forest. They were still a good distance away from the Imperial line, and so long as nobody yelled there wasn't any harm in whispering orders. "Streiss?" she said.

Nina's figure came into focus as she moved closer. "Yeah?"

"I've got your sector covered," Ramona said. Peering out, she could see the areas beyond where Nina had been standing before she'd moved. Her night vision was better than the other woman's, so the unit wouldn't be left any more vulnerable, even with her doubling up on zones. "Go back and get Landzaat. Tell him to bring everyone up with him."

Nodding, Nina gave her a pat on the shoulder before lowering her weapon and moving towards their rear. Before long Ramona heard the soft rustling of gear and underbrush behind her. "You called?" she heard Karl say when the noise stopped.

Behind him, nine other Militiamen waited for her orders. It had taken some time to get used to the idea of being section leader, but after the Squad's first couple of days in the field things fell into place. She'd been in command of the unit since before the war, but it wasn't until they'd seen their first combat that anyone actually respected her. There had been all sorts of rumors that she'd been put on the fast track through the ranks because an officer had heard she had been a model and thought he could use her for propaganda. As much as she hated the thought of it, she believed it herself. Coby had made sure the section had followed her orders, and once they entered actual combat she proved she was fit for the job. There were still plenty of jokes flying around, but at least people listened when she gave an order. "We're not going to be able to move on like this," she said to Karl.

Karl poked his head around her. From his face she could tell he hadn't seen anything more than she had. Probably less. "Well what exactly do you want to do?" he asked. "We can't just go back."

"I know." Looking the section over she thought about her options. With nine people to babysit nothing was going to work the way she wanted it, but with a small group it would have been easier to move unnoticed. "I'll take like, three or four on ahead. You stay here with the rest and be ready to pull us out if something goes wrong."

"Are we close?"

Ramona resisted the temptation to reach into her rucksack and pull out her map. She already knew where they were - checking again would have been stalling. "They should still be about four-hundred meters out," she said. "Still, if they've got a patrol moving out there they'll be easier to avoid with just a few of us than the whole section. I'll take three ahead. Keep an eye on the rest."

"You mean I'm staying?"

The relief on Karl's face forced Ramona to hold in a laugh. He was a smart guy, and she was glad to have someone like him as her assistant section leader, but he was jumpy. People listened to her so long as she smiled and looked pretty, but he actually knew how to put people to work outside of combat. Once they left their own lines it was up to her. "Yeah, you're staying." Turning around, she gave Nina a quick pat on the back. The woman was by far one of the fittest in the Squad, let alone the section. "I'm taking Streiss with me," she said.

Shifting on the balls of her feet, Ramona took an inventory of the rest of the section. It was the Squad's weapons section, and it wasn't built for quick movement. Almost a full quarter of it was devoted to maintaining and operating Wendy's .30 caliber machinegun, and while the extra firepower was more than welcome it didn't make for a quick set up or egress. "Stijnen too," she said. "Cherry, leave the .30's tripod and any extra ammo you've got with Landzaat."

"Right on, right on," Cherry said as she stepped forward. Cherry was a handful, but she was light and fast. It didn't hurt that she was also a good friend. Wendy probably wasn't happy that her assistant gunner was being stolen, but she'd deal with it.

"Alright then," Ramona said looking over the two she'd pulled aside. "Anyone else want to volunteer?"

She wasn't expecting anything, and when Hermes stepped forward she had to hide her surprise. "I'll go," he said.

It took her a moment to catch on, but when Ramona realized what the group would look like with Hermes along she shook her head and sighed. With all of the gear they were wearing it was almost impossible to tell a man from a woman from the neck down, but without helmets everything above the shoulders gave them away. "Do you want to go because you want to go, or are you volunteering for the company?" she asked.

Hermes smiled. "Is there a difference?"

If she hadn't been wearing forty pounds of equipment, Ramona would have been watching where the man's eyes were wandering. As it was there wasn't much to see. "Not in this unit," she mumbled. Waving him over, she gave Karl one last nod and turned to brief the group of three she was taking ahead with her. As much as the extra gear protected against wandering eyes, she wanted as much of it stripped as possible. "Shit-can anything that doesn't shoot or blow up," she said unhooking her canteen from her waist. "If it's going to make noise or get in the way it gets left behind."

"So what do we do with Cherry?" Nina asked.

"Let her chat away," Ramona said. Inspecting her rifle, she made sure the safety was engaged before pulling the charging handle back far enough to check the chamber. "Maybe if we send her in first she'll soak up all the incoming fire."

"Oh, come on," Cherry said. "What would you do without me?"

Checking her own weapon, Nina paused just long enough to roll her eyes. "Sleep soundly for a change."

Ramona heard Cherry let out a quiet chuckle before the girl caught herself and held a straight face. She couldn't do the same. "And what are you laughing at?" Cherry asked, throwing a hand in the air. "You talk just as much as I do."

"Fair," Ramona said as she inspected the rest of her equipment. She had one magazine loaded into her rifle and five to spare in her vest – 90 rounds in all, not counting the spare magazines she was carrying for the handgun strapped down at her thigh. It was the standard front line load, but being a section leader in Catherine's platoon she was used to carrying double that. "Then again," she continued, "I can get my kicks bossing you around, so I don't have to stay up all night talking to poor Nina in her sleep."

Cherry's eyes dropped. After a few seconds of staring blankly, she took a quick scan of her rifle and drew back on its charging handle. "Bitch."

Smiling again, Ramona had to suppress another laugh. "Hey," she heard Hermes say as he reached out to pat Cherry on the shoulder. "You can still talk to me in my sleep if you want."

"Yeah, yeah," Ramona said still chuckling, "fun's over." Edging forward, she took a step past Nina and looked out into the woods ahead of her. "Sometime over the last day or so Squad 4 lost the position of the Imps' front lines. We've got to find out where they went. The Lieutenant's guess puts them another four-hundred meters out there, but watch for patrols. Once we hit an observation post or something we'll mark it down and head back. We're not equipped to stay and fight. Hopefully it won't come to it, but if you make contact, break it. Cool?"

Hermes and Nina nodded. In the dark, Cherry flashed a thumbs up. Looking back, Ramona locked eyes with Karl. He wasn't going, but she needed him ready just in case they ran into something they weren't quite prepared to deal with. "Don't worry," he said as if he'd read her mind. "We won't leave you out there."

"I know," she said. As comforting as his words were they didn't do much to ease her mind. The thought of taking a round to the gut nearly spilled her dinner all over the forest floor. Forcing herself to relax, she swallowed hard, smiled, and shot Karl a wink. "I'm too pretty to leave behind, right?"

Smiling himself, the man laughed. "Don't tell Lynn," he said.

"Deal." Turning back to her own group, Ramona looked each of them over before nodding and directing them forward. She wasn't smiling anymore, and neither were they. Each of them was carrying a weapon. All it would take to kill would be a quick flick of a safety and a pull of a trigger. They'd all done it before, and so had she. It was part of the job. As the four Militiamen left the rest of their section behind, she tried to remember exactly how she'd found herself in that line of work in the first place. The only people who knew the full story were Cherry and her father, and she hadn't been on speaking terms with him since she'd left home.

None of that was important at the moment. All that mattered was getting through the night. She could see Cherry's silhouette to her left and Hermes's off to her right. She couldn't see Nina in the dark, but from the way Hermes was checking his flanks every few meters she could tell the woman was still in formation.

Trying to peer through the dark, Ramona searched for any shapes that looked out of the ordinary. They had only moved two-hundred meters. The observation post was still supposed to be another two-hundred out. It wouldn't have been a long distance in the daylight, but under the canopy of leaves and the cover of night it seemed like a mile.

Ramona hadn't taken three steps forward before she dropped down to her knee, placing her thumb over her rifle's safety. Something ahead had moved. She hadn't seen a shape the first time, but the second time it shifted she was sure it was a helmet. Cherry had already stopped with her. As she turned to her right Hermes stopped as well. The man had been a bit slower on the uptake, but once he dropped to his knee she knew he'd seen her halt.

There was a loud snap to Hermes's right. It was the second time Ramona had heard the sound that night. She knew before it had faded that someone had stepped on a small branch. When she looked back to where she'd seen the helmet before she saw not one, but three of bobbing, and when the motion was followed by the sound of metal sliding against metal there was only one word that came to mind – 'Fuck'.

She was nearly blinded by the glare of the muzzle flash down-field. The light tore into everything in its path, casting shadows through the forest ahead of it and illuminating the brush ahead like daylight. The only thing worse than the light burning her eyes was the noise ripping through her ears. Each short burst sounded like a single shot, but the bullets slamming into the trees and bushes around her told her otherwise. Splinters and broken branches flew through the air, lodging themselves in her uniform and hair as they finally hit the ground. When the machinegun's fire shifted from where the twig had snapped to where she had her face pressed into the dirt and mud she heard the worst sound in the world – the sharp snap that told her the round that had just missed, and that it had been meant for her. Ballistic cracks. She would have given anything to be deaf.

As she crawled forward she tried to ignore the dirt that streaked her uniform as her stomach slid across the forest floor. She had already landed in a thick patch of mud, and the muck caked her face and tangled her hair. She was sure she looked like Hell, but the Imps wouldn't care. They'd shoot anything wearing blue, regardless of how it looked. She was probably just about the only woman in Gallia who still even cared by that point. Everyone else had either learned their lesson or died.

When Ramona found a log that looked sturdy enough to stop a bullet, she thumbed her weapon's safety. She'd lost sight of the others, and she couldn't hear any movement over the sound of the heavy weapon bursts from the Imperial machinegun. "Everyone alright?" she called out over the gunfire.

She heard another series of reports from where Cherry had been standing. Each blast told her that her friend was still alive. "Sure," she heard Cherry say from somewhere in the shadows and brush, "but you're cutting it a bit close, yeah? We bookin' it?"

"Soon as we can get moving," Ramona called back. She couldn't see Hermes. "Kissinger?"

The only sound that reached her ears from her side was the steady crack of Cherry's rifle. Each report drilled into her head, and after a few seconds of waiting she heard a slight ringing. It got louder with each successive shot. The only thing she really cared about was that Cherry was alive to fire, but the standard issue Gallian-4 was the loudest battle rifle in the field. With her ears under attack and the ringing growing louder, Ramona almost didn't hear Hermes call out. "Here," he said, crawling through the brush next to her. "I'm alright."

With Hermes accounted for Ramona was tempted to lift her head high enough to look for Nina. When the top of the log exploded out in a fountain of bark and splinters in front of her, she instead pressed her head closer to the ground. "Did you see Streiss?"

"She's down."

When the words made it through all of the cracks and the ringing, Ramona twisted her head until she was supporting herself on her chin instead of her cheek. The movement lifted her head a few inches higher. She still couldn't see Nina. "Dead?"

"I don't know," Hermes said. His voice broke as he spoke, and his eyes were peeled wide open. "I can't get to her," he continued. "She's not moving."

Holding back a long string of curses, Ramona worked her rifle's safety. She wasn't in a position to fire, and with a man down she needed to focus her attention elsewhere. Nina was carrying the group's only submachine gun. That sealed the deal - forget the rifle, get to Nina, and grab her Mags. No sweat. "Hey Cherry!" Ramona yelled. "Nina's down. I'm going to go make a grab for her weapon. We're not leaving you. Just hold here and keep firing."

"Go for it," Cherry said between shots. "Just don't totally screw me, okay?"

Nodding, Ramona crawled towards where Hermes had appeared through the brush. Pushing forward, she ignored the slick coating of dirt that rubbed against her stomach and the inside of her arms and legs. Her knee and elbow pads kept her from feeling a lot of the muck, but they were on the inside of her combat utilities, and the fabric that was smashed between the pads and the dirt she was crawling over was likely stained for good. That bothered her – almost as much as the realization that the thoughts were running through her mind as she was crawling towards a casualty.

Hermes followed her. The man had joined the Squad around the same time as Nina. He had a soft spot for all of the women in the unit, but he probably would have gotten along well with her regardless of sex. "Over there," he said as he pointed as far as he could without exposing his arm. "She's not moving, and she didn't say anything when I called over to her."

Nina was lying face down, and the back of her pack stuck out above the brush surrounding her. The group had been moving far enough away from each other that an explosion wouldn't have taken down more than one person. That left her a decent distance away, and there wasn't any cover between where the log ended and where Nina had fallen. Ramona still needed the Mags. "Here," she said as she reached for the grenades she was carrying and handed them over to Hermes. "Do whatever you can with these and lay down some fire."

"I can't throw that far," he said, looking down at the explosives she'd given him.

"I know," Ramona said. Staying as low to the ground as possible, she stripped off her pack and set her rifle down next to the log. She had her handgun, and the pack and the rifle were going to slow her down. "See if you can't get their heads down though. If nothing else it'll at least distract them."

"You're really going?"

Peeking just far enough out of cover to get a look, Ramona could see that several flashes other than the machinegun now lit the forest. "Yeah," she said. Hoping she'd sounded confident, she prepared to push off. As the ringing in her ears continued, she found that her legs had somehow been replaced with lead weights. She told herself it didn't make a difference. Once she started rolling momentum would carry her the rest of the way.

She stayed only long enough to watch Hermes huck one of her grenades down-field before closing her eyes and tossing herself out from behind the log. At least, she thought she'd closed her eyes. She still saw the blast in the light of the muzzle flashes. The concussive force sent dirt flying and covered the field in a thick cloud of dirty smoke. It wouldn't last long, but it would at least conceal her for the time being. Rolling from left to right, she tried to ignore the cracks of the rounds flying past her, and was almost thankful that the heavy 'whump' of the grenade burst nearly deafened her. Her hearing wouldn't be the same for a good day or so, but it was a small price to pay for a little bit of comfort and security – or the illusion of the two.

By the time Hermes's rifle sounded off, Ramona had come to a stop next to where Nina had hit the ground. Looking around, there wasn't much for cover besides the base of a tree a meter from where the woman had fallen. It was workable. Getting Nina there would be step one. "Nina, are you okay?" Hermes had already told her the woman was unresponsive, but she wanted a better look up close. When she tapped her on the shoulder and repeated the question, the woman still didn't move.

Ramona pulled Nina's Mags out from under her and slung it around her shoulder. With a gentle tug, she dragged Nina alongside her as she headed for the base of the tree. Ramona had a good five inches of height on the other woman, but Nina was far more muscular, and with all of the extra weight she was carrying she had to strain to get the woman moving without resorting to physically getting up and carrying her. When she made it to the tree's trunk, she set Nina's Mags on her lap before turning her attention to the woman herself.

Stripping Nina's pack and tossing it aside, Ramona rolled her onto her back. She was still breathing. After ensuring her airway was clear, Ramona searched for any physical injuries she could find. The stock of the woman's Mags had been coated in blood when she'd pulled it out from under her. There was a dark splotch that had spread across the front of Nina's uniform, and there were several rips and tears in the fabric near the stain's center. She was just about to open the woman's uniform and reach for her field kit when a bright flash illuminated an armored figure creeping around the bend.

Ignoring the Mags on her lap, Ramona's hand went straight for the handgun on her thigh. She already knew it was loaded and that there was a round chambered. By the time the weapon had cleared its holster she'd already thumbed the safety, and within a second and a half the weapon was trained on her target. When the slide jumped back she lost sight of what she was firing at behind the muzzle flash.

When she stopped firing, it took a couple of seconds for her eyes to readjust. There was a bright green afterimage of the flash floating in front of her. She kept the gun raised for another ten count before ejecting the half empty magazine and replacing it with a full one.

When the man didn't reappear, Ramona dropped the handgun back into its holster and turned her attention to the Mags. She could hear more cracks now, and there was a series of loud 'thwacks' as rounds from one of the Imperial weapons slammed into the tree trunk she'd hunkered behind. Someone else had seen the flashes from her weapon. Nina was going to have to wait. Lifting the woman's weapon Ramona released the magazine. It was heavy. After checking the chamber, she slammed the magazine back into the magazine well and cycled the bolt.

There were even more flashes going off when she poked her head around the tree trunk. It was impossible to see their silhouettes, but the bright bursts of light were more than enough to tell her where the Imps were firing from. Picking one of them out, she lifted the Mags and put her sight picture over where she figured the flash put the shooter. When she disengaged the safety and put her finger on the weapon's trigger, she realized that as soon as she fired they were going to pinpoint her as well. At least one of them had seen her handgun go off. It was going to be difficult for the rest to miss the Mags – and considering it was going to be sending more rounds their way than Cherry and Hermes combined, it was going to draw a lot of unwanted attention.

Licking her lips, Ramona drew a deep breath. It was slow and steady, but it didn't make her feel any better, and the following exhale came out in ragged bursts. Even though she was supporting the weapon against the trunk of the tree it felt heavy. She could smell the blood on the stock as she pressed her cheek against it. It was sticky. Pushing the thought of what she'd just painted the side of her face with out of her mind, she steadied her breath and pulled the trigger.

It had been a long time since she'd fired a Mags – nearly since weapons familiarization when she'd been a recruit. Each kick into her shoulder reminded her why she preferred the rifle. The rifle bucked harder, but it only fired once. She let her first burst go too long. By the time she released the trigger her rounds were flying all over the place. After the second burst there was another afterimage floating in front of her. By the time she'd let off her third the Imps were firing back. The bullet impacts against the tree trunk shot a spray of splinters and fragments against her face.

When the Mags' bolt locked back, Ramona twisted herself behind the trunk and tossed the empty magazine aside. With her weapon empty she reached into Nina's rig for a new magazine. After reloading the gun, she took a brief second to look the woman over. The dark splotch on Nina's uniform had expanded. She was still breathing.

Ramona's hearing faded out again when a grenade exploded nearby. Dropping the Mags, she nearly toppled onto her side as clouds of smoke rolled over her. Whoever had tossed the grenade had been within throwing distance. She reached her hand up to her vest to grab a grenade. They weren't there. She'd left them with Hermes.

When another splintering of secondary fragments scratched across her face Ramona realized she was out of options. Throat dry and body shaking, she tried to lift Nina's Mags again. Her arms complied, but she couldn't convince her hands to give the weapon's grips a strong hold. The weapon shook clumsily as she brought it into position. Its felt like it had a hundred pound trigger pull. When the gun finally went off she didn't let go of the trigger. It had been hard enough firing the weapon the first time – a second burst wasn't going to happen.

When the bolt locked back Ramona knew she hadn't hit anything. She'd only seen where the first batch of rounds had gone. As the last casing hit the ground she found that everything in front of her was distorted behind a screen of green. The afterimage was going to be sticking around for a while, as was the constant ringing in her ears. The low buzz was barely audible over the sounds of the firefight, but as soon as the shooting stopped she was sure it would be deafening.

Another grenade burst sent a shudder through her, but it had gone off around where she'd left Cherry. She could feel tears welling up, but she quickly blinked them away. If Cherry was still alive they'd keep fighting. If she was dead their flank had fallen. Either way, the firefight wasn't going to last much longer. When she heard movement off to her own flank, she knew it had already ended. Her Mags was empty. She had her handgun, but she could hear more than one person advancing on her, and they'd have her dead before she emptied a magazine. Her hand was on the weapons grip before she could convince herself otherwise.

Ramona saw the muzzle flash of the other weapon. She hadn't even cleared her own holster. As close as the report was, she could still hear her ears ringing over the noise of the burst. It hummed a low, constant whine. She hated the sound almost more than she hated the sound of any Imperial rifle or bullet crack. Those sounds faded within moments. The ringing stayed for hours. It had been four days since she'd heard it last – a record for the past month. Her father had never heard it before; at least not like she had. He was probably safe and comfortably asleep back in his own bed at home, with no ringing in his ears and no idea that some Imp prick had his rifle aiming down his only child. Though she still saw the green splotches when she pressed her eyelids together, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that they were finally shut. She didn't expect to open them again.

The first round tore into her upper shoulder. It didn't hurt as much as she'd expected getting shot would have. She realized she must have gone into shock nearly instantly. The second two blows came in quick succession, leading up from the edge of her upper shoulder to the base of her neck. She'd seen one of her men get shot in the neck in the middle of a firefight once. He'd bled out before she could get a medic to him. Letting her head fall back against the tree trunk Ramona let out a last ragged breath.

"Hey, did you hear me?" Once again she felt the bullet impacts against her shoulder. They were harder this time, and her entire body rocked with each successive blow. Opening her eyes she found herself face to face with a man crouching. Dazed, she had trouble recognizing him. Ignoring him for the moment, she took a look at the bullet wounds the Imp weapon had dealt her. She didn't see them. Instead she saw the man's hand still holding her. "Are you alright?" he asked.

Looking back up, Ramona placed the voice. Cezary. Glancing to her left she could see the weapon she'd heard still firing. It was Wendy's .30. "Yeah," she said nodding.

Cezary didn't move. Instead, she could see him look her up and down. "Were you hit?"

Running her hands over the front of her uniform, she felt for any wet spots or tears she hadn't felt before. The fabric was dirty, but other than the patches of Nina's blood that had smeared across her shoulder and face she checked out. "No."

Satisfied, Cezary turned to the body sprawled on the ground. "Streiss?"

"She's hit," Ramona said. She was still stunned, but her senses were beginning to ebb back into her. "Stomach and chest."

"Alright," the man said as he checked to make sure the woman was breathing. "The others?"

"Further down the line."

Removing a glove and running his fingers up Nina's neck, Cezary gave a slight nod. Ramona heard a rustling as two more figures stepped out from behind him and began making their way to where she'd left Hermes and Cherry. "Karl's with Wendy by the .30," Cezary said.

"Alright." Reaching down, Ramona pulled the remaining magazines from Nina's vest, and after reloading the Mags, she placed the spares in her own. "You have her covered?"

"Yeah."

"We're leaving as soon as you can pull her out. Get Stijnen and Kissinger and start falling back." Without waiting for a response, Ramona lifted herself back onto her feet and in a half crouch stepped out from behind the tree trunk. She never would have thought it possible a few moments before, but the light from Wendy's machinegun told her it was safe to move.

When she hit the crew's position, Ramona took a knee near the large stump the crew was using as cover. Karl noticed her as she dropped down next to him. "You're not going to tell Lynn, right?" he asked with a nervous smile. It wasn't hard to tell that he was worried about the firefight and not his fiancée.

With an exhausted chuckle Ramona mustered the biggest smile she could manage. It didn't amount to much. "We had a deal, remember?" Tapping Claudia on the shoulder, she waited until the woman looked up before she started issuing orders again. "We're not sticking around," she said when she was sure everybody was paying attention. "Start tearing this thing down and fall back." Turning slightly she locked eyes with Dorothy. "We're covering."

When Cezary returned with Nina and the .30's last cartridge fed itself through Wendy's machinegun, Karl and Claudia started dismantling the weapon. Raising the Mags to her shoulder, Ramona made sure to count heads as she saw Cherry and Hermes return with Audrey and Nadine. Everyone was accounted for and on their way out. Pulling her trigger, she fired a few short bursts before stopping to check their progress. Dorothy was still firing next to her. The section had disappeared into the darkness behind them. Tapping Dorothy on the shoulder, Ramona jerked her head back before bringing her weapon up again to finish off the magazine. When it was empty, she didn't bother to reload before turning to run herself. By the time she slammed a fresh magazine in the magazine well, the sound of the incoming fire was fading, and within a minute it had ceased.

The rest of the section was waiting for her two-hundred meters ahead. Panting, Ramona hunched over with her hands on her knees before looking around to make sure everybody was accounted for. Mina was already working on Nina, and the rest of the section had set up a small perimeter while she worked. Kneeling in silence, they waited until she'd finished patching the woman up before pulling out a collapsible stretcher and moving again.

It was still as dark as it had been before the firefight, but that didn't bother Ramona anymore. Her vision was still skewed, and her ears were going to be ringing for the next day or so, but that was fine too. She was alive enough to notice it. Their mission was complete, and as soon as they made it back to their own line the patrol would be over. She wasn't sure what was waiting for them in the shadows of the forest as the group marched, but Ramona was filled with the relief that they were returning home instead of going out. With each step forward her gut relaxed and her smile broadened.

Nina died on the way back.

* * *

Next: Orders


	2. Orders

**Engagement 2: Orders**

"It was here." Ramona put her finger on the section of the map where her section had run into the Imperial OP. "We weren't expecting it to be that close. Whenever they've moved up before, it's only been by about 50 meters at a time. We ran into them 150 meters before we expected to." Captain Eleanor Varrot stared down at the map. If the position Linton indicated was accurate, that placed the Empire's lines dangerously close to the Militia's own. After a week and a half stalemate, it seemed the Empire was ready to go on the offensive.

"Thank you, Corporal." Varrot lifted her gaze from the map. Although the patrol had returned an hour ago, Corporal Linton was still in full combat dress. Dirt stained her elbows and stomach, and she was wearing her chest rig over her fatigues. Several magazines were missing. After the unit returned from the patrol, Nina's body was taken to Medical Battalion, and Ramona was called in for an immediate debriefing. For 40 minutes, she poured over the map with Captain Varrot and Lieutenant Gunther, detailing every movement and observation the scouting party had made. Looking at her face, the Captain could tell she was still in shock.

"You were the third patrol to come under fire in five nights, Corporal. Under the conditions and information you had available at the time, your actions were sound. While Private Streiss's death is regrettable, it was also unavoidable. Dismissed."

"Sir." With a salute, Ramona excused herself from the command tent. That made twelve dead within the last two weeks. Twelve dead and twenty three wounded. Nothing like the old books. Varrot turned her head towards a large chest next to her makeshift desk. It held a collection of her favorite books, many of which told romantic tales of the old 18th and 19th century Gallian wars. If only it were more like the books…

"Captain, If I may…" Lieutenant Gunther's voice brought the captain back to the map. "2nd section reported that there was a dense collection of evergreen shrubs in this area here. Now that the Imperials have moved up, we may be able to conceal a sniper team in the area within range. Predators hide around these types of bushes all the time. It should keep the snipers out of sight long enough to clear the position."

"Noted Lieutenant, but it's no longer our responsibility. The Army's Fourth Infantry Reserves Regiment will arrive tomorrow morning to relieve us of this position. I'll advise their commanding officer of the situation and let them handle it." Varrot left the map and returned to her chair. The command tent was sparsely furnished, and her makeshift desk was made out of an old card table and some crates. Not the most official setup, but it got the job done.

"Sir?"

"Command is planning an operation to the North. I'm not yet sure where, but we've been selected to participate. Once we're relieved, we are heading for the staging ground at Reims. We'll be briefed on the operation there." Adjusting her glasses, Varrot glanced at the clock on her desk. 0500. It was going to be another long day. "Have First Sergeant Melchiott, Gunnery Sergeant Potter, and your platoon leaders briefed by 1100. Squads should be ready to pull out by 0200 tomorrow morning." It was tight, and it didn't leave much room for sleep, but orders were orders.

"Yes sir."

"Dismissed."

With a salute of his own, Welkin excused himself from the tent. Left alone, the Captain slumped a little in her chair. She would have to write a report on Streiss's death. Once more her gaze shifted towards her books. Closing her eyes, she took a moment to relive the stories before returning to her paperwork.

* * *

"How about Ellet?"

"Ellet? You mean the reporter?"

"Yeah. Ellet. The reporter. How about it?"

"Hm… Yeah. Yeah, I'd give her an interview to remember." Salinas Milton and Ted Ustinov sat in a small foxhole positioned between two large trees. With a blanket draped over the top, it would be nearly impossible for an Imperial to spot them if he didn't already know they were there.

"I'm telling you Ted," Salinas declared, pointing his finger for emphasis, "it's the glasses. The glasses do it every time."

"Well what about Sergeant Coren? She's got glasses."

"And I would interview her too." Salinas picked up his binoculars and scanned the forest ahead of them. Nothing. Their sector had been clear for the past day and a half.

"Ok, ok. Captain Varrot."

Putting down the binoculars, he stared incredulously at Ted. "Ted. Nobody touches the Captain. Or at least nobody lives to tell about it." He shifted his position before continuing on. "You know, the Lieutenant was telling me about these spiders, right? These spiders mate, and when they finish, she eats him. Bites his head right off. I'm telling you man, that's Varrot. You want to keep your balls, you best not let anyone hear you saying something like that."

"Oh." Ted was stunned. He had never heard Salinas tell anyone to lay off on talking about a woman. "Sorry I brought it up."

Salinas nodded. "But yes. I would. Heartily, might I add."

_Of course_, Ted thought to himself. _I should have seen that set up coming._ _I'll remember it for later_. Having lost the initiative, Ted knew he had to throw one out quick. Within seconds, he had come up with the perfect counter. "How about Wavy?"

Once more, Salinas shot Ted the same glare, but this time he couldn't hold onto it. Within seconds, the pair had broken into fits of laughter. "Ted, you are too much. I swear, you could make any guard duty almost slightly tolerable. You remember that time when…"

"You're both dead." Ted and Salinas immediately turned towards the voice behind them. The speaker was Aika Thompson. She was crouched about five feet from the foxhole along with another Squad 7 soldier; Walter Nash. "You guys were making so much noise we could hear you before we could ever see you."

"The area's been clear," Ted responded. "We were just talking about…"

"Yeah, I know what you were talking about." Her tone was flat. Ted guessed she didn't find the situation as funny as he did – after all, she didn't wear glasses. Since joining Squad 7, Ted made it his personal mission to make every person in the Squad laugh at least once. When times got bad, he always made sure he was there to lighten the mood, and when times were good he did his best to keep everyone as happy as possible. So far, his mission had been successful. Within a few short weeks, he'd gotten everyone. Well, _almost_ everyone.

"Alright, look. Ted and I have been watching this section for two hours. That's a long time to sit and watch a bunch of trees."

"And it only takes a minute for a patrol to come around and kill you both. Either way, you're relieved. It's 1030. We've got the next shift."

"Well enjoy your time," Salinas relented. "Another five days of this and I'll lose my mind."

"Might not be that long, ya' know?" Walter Nash came from the southern region of the Barious desert and still held the area's strong accent. "The Lieutenant is briefing the Top and the platoon leaders. Seems something's up."

"Any ideas?" Ted asked the question, but he was sure he already knew the answer.

"No clue. Could be something. Could be nothing. I just watch the line."

"Yeah, figures." Salinas picked up his weapon and hoisted himself out of the foxhole. After giving Ted a hand, the two stood up and prepared to leave. "On a serious note though, this area's been pretty clear. We don't expect anything to try to come through. Especially not in this light. Keep your eyes open and watch the bushes to the left, but a conversation now and again won't kill you. At least, it didn't kill us."

"Thanks for the tip." Walter was just about to enter the foxhole before he stopped. "Oh, by the way. The mess had some extra flour, so I baked some bread. I brought it for me and Aika, but there's more here than we can finish." Reaching into his kit, he pulled out a full loaf of bread and handed it to Ted. As he did, he nodded his head and silently mouthed a single word. _Yes_. Aika was already in the foxhole watching the lines. Without another word, Walter joined her.

_Yes, _Ted thought. _Looks like the Captain is going three for three. _After a brief but disturbing mental image of a spider, he shuddered and walked off.

* * *

At twelve years old, Aisha Newmann was the youngest member of Squad 7. Although she was technically too young to serve, the Gallian military made an exception on her behalf. Hailed as a prodigy, she earned her military certification in record time. Wanting to tap into her potential, the Army prepared to groom her into a military career, and that meant giving her as much experience as possible as soon as possible. In what seemed a perfect coincidence, a war was going on. Instead of being assigned to an Army unit, Aisha found herself in the Militia. It was supposed to be safer.

Stepping out of the command tent, the young girl kneeled down to fix her boot. Feeling Aisha was too young for combat duty, Captain Varrot assigned her as her personal aid and Squad 7 runner. While she hadn't seen much actual combat, she did carry messages between command and the rear units on the front lines, and lived under the command structure of the Gallian Militia. Experience was experience. Still, she wanted combat experience, not just command experience.

Walking through camp, Aisha kept an eye out for Sergeants Coren and Caird. Although her job was to deliver a message, she looked forward to seeing them. Especially Juno Coren. Because of her status as a "child prodigy", many people pushing for her military career forgot she was still a kid. On her fourth night in the Squad, homesickness finally set in. She didn't like to be left alone, and separation from her family was starting to take its toll. Juno found her crying alone in her quarters, and kept her company for the rest of the night. Since then, the two had become good friends. Juno had gone to the same university as the Lieutenant, and her ability as a natural leader earned her the rank of Sergeant. Naturally, Aisha looked up to her.

After a five minute search she found the two in the mess tent. "Sergeant Caird. Sergeant Coren." Aisha gave the two a quick salute. "The Captain says that your platoon leaders have preparations for leaving under control. She wants you to make sure your Corporals have their sections packed and ready to move out by 0130."

"0130? Pretty late to be moving out. Must be a rush."

"Yes sir, Sargeant Caird, sir." Aisha took a seat at their table. "We're moving in trucks. The trip'll be a couple hours long, but we'll have a barracks when we get there, so we won't have to sleep in the woods anymore."

"Oh, thank God for that." Coby Caird was the oldest member of Squad 7. His experience in the first European War saw him rise to Sergeant, and he maintained the rank when he reenlisted. In an inversion of Aisha's situation, he was technically too old to serve in the Gallian Military. However, after the Empire invaded the Militia became desperate for bodies. Coby's previous experience convinced more than one recruiter to look the other way. Seeing the old man and the young girl together put a smile on more than a couple Squad 7 soldier's faces. "I don't think my back could take another night out here." Grimacing, he rubbed the small of his back with his left hand. With his right, he brought his canteen to his mouth and took a long swig. "I'll tell you though. Back in EWI, I could spend weeks without a bunk. I remember one time my Squad was…"

If he had one flaw, Coby had a tendency to ramble. That was alright. Aisha enjoyed his stories. Listening patiently, she nodded her head and gave the appropriate uh-hu's and yeah's when necessary. It was the third time she'd heard this particular story. Grabbing a piece of bread, Juno extended her hand towards the girl. "Would you like some bread, Aisha? The First Sergeant and Walter helped the cooks bake it this morning. It's really good."

Graciously, Aisha took the bread. It really was delicious. As Coby finished his story, she began to depart. "Before you go," the old man stopped her, "has there been any contact today?"

"An Imperial patrol made contact with one of Squad 5's observation posts, but other than that it's been quiet. Squad 7 hasn't seen anything since the patrol early this morning when…" She didn't finish the sentence.

"Thank you, Aisha," he replied. Nina Streiss had been one of his soldiers.

"Do either of you need anything else?"

"No ma'am. You're free to go." With a salute and a smile, Juno sent the girl on her way. She'd said ma'am. The words made Aisha feel a foot taller every time she heard them.

* * *

"Your gear should be packed 15 minutes ago!" Lance Corporal Musaad Mayfield's voice roared over the nocturnal sounds of the forest around them. "Anyone who doesn't have their shit together by then can expect to pack the bags of the entire section for the next three deployments!" Corporal Wavy looked at his watch. 2330. Though he didn't agree with Mayfield's approach to discipline, he couldn't deny its effectiveness. The two made a good team. Together they ran Squad 7's 1st section. Mayfield commanded the unit's fear, and Wavy commanded their respect. _I guess it's possible to be feared AND loved. _Wavy looked his section up and down. Always double check. Everything seemed in order. Nancy's bag had to be repacked twice after she spilled its contents all over the ground, and Rosina had to fix her uniform, but after a quick once over, they were ready to go. _And two hours early. Not bad. _

Moving down the line, he made a point to make eye contact with every member. Unable to help himself, he threw in an extra smile when he reached Lynn. As a fellow Darcsen, he knew what the girl had been through. _Is still going through_. "Alright. We're leaving in about two hours. As long as you have your stuff ready and report back here by 0115, you're free to do whatever. I suggest you get some sleep though. We'll be in trucks. You know how hard it is to sleep in those things." It was nearly impossible, to be exact. Soldiers were crammed into trucks like sardines. If there was an open space, you could guarantee someone would be shoved in.

Wavy continued to pace as he spoke. "We're heading to the port city of Reims. That's on the South West coast of Gallia, for those of you who failed geography." Before the war, Wavy had been a schoolteacher. While the unit knew of his previous occupation, nobody actually knew what it was that he had taught. Rumors included everything from History to Home Ec. "I don't know what we're doing when we get there, but be prepared for anything." Stopping, he let his head scan the men. Some of them were young enough to be his students. "That is all."

"You heard the man! 0115! You show up late and I give your chocolate and cigarette rations to the closest person I see! Now get moving!" Before the echo of Musaad's voice had faded, the section was gone.

"You certainly have a way with words," Wavy observed.

"Just keeping the kids in line, sir." Musaad was a veteran of the first war, and Wavy was glad for his experience. While Wavy was book smart, he didn't have the actual experience the other man had. He'd learned to trust and rely on the man's advice, and his wisdom had saved the unit on more than a few occasions.

_Kids. Accurate. _At 24, Salinas Milton and Rosina Selden were the oldest members of the section. From there, the ages ranged all the way down to 15. At 35 and 43 respectively, Wavy and Musaad's command created a large age gap between the unit and its leaders. Fortunately, this worked in their favor. Many members of the group looked up to them as they would older brothers or uncles. Despite Mayfield's insistence on a constant display of discipline, Wavy had nothing to worry about. If he gave an order, the men would follow. "Yeah… I'm going to follow my own advice and get some sleep."

"Yes sir. I'll stay up and make sure none of our guys get themselves into any trouble. You know how they like to slack off…"

"I'll leave that to you." As Musaad walked off after the group, Wavy gave a slight chuckle. _What is that man going to do when the war is over and he doesn't have a unit to look after?_ Shaking his head, he walked off in search of a place to rest.

* * *

The Army relief regiment arrived at 0230. One by one, Varrot directed each of her Squads into the truck convoy. Squad 7 didn't file in until 0300. By the time the convoy was ready to leave, the Army regiment had already taken over the camp. It was their home now. Varrot looked over the scene with a slight pang of regret. She'd lost twelve men in this forest. Twelve men dead, twenty three wounded. Adjusting her glasses, she turned her back to the camp and boarded her jeep.

* * *

Next Engagement: The Great Crusade


	3. The Great Crusade

**Engagement 3: The Great Crusade**

Freesia York had never seen so much water in her life. For the past 18 years, she had wondered the desert as an entertainer. Her stint in the Militia saw her leaving the desert for the first time. Gazing out at the ocean, Freesia couldn't help feeling a strong sense of déjà vu. "Pretty wild, yeah?" The question came from Emile Bielert, one of Squad 7's snipers. He was pretty small for his age, and Freesia had heard he wasn't all that healthy. Nobody seemed to know for sure, and his brother Oscar wouldn't say anything about it, but a lot of people in the Squad suspected he was sick. Real sick. "I bet you've never seen anything like this, have you?"

Freesia smiled. "Yeah, I have. I guess when it comes down to it an ocean of water isn't much different than an ocean of sand…" She was grateful that the Militia had given her a chance to see Gallia outside of the desert, but scenes like this reminded her that was where she belonged. Always had, always will. Still, water was a valuable resource in the desert, and so much of it in one place blew her mind. "What about you, Emile? You see the ocean a lot?"

For a split second, Emile's eyes turned to the ground. As an entertainer, Freesia had to learn to read body language. The desert was full of bandits and con-men. While Emile probably hadn't even noticed the signal himself, she had. "No… Not really." Freesia had seen people like him before. Sheltered. While Freesia valued her freedom above all else, she did envy the boy for one thing. Sheltered meant Emile had parents. Hers had been dead for years.

Once again Freesia fixed her gaze on the ocean horizon. A day and a half ago she had been on the front lines. It was hard to believe that the battles she had experienced over the past few weeks were still being fought just a few hours away. After a six and a half hour truck ride to Reims, the Squad was pleasantly surprised to find that they had been given a 60 hour liberty within the city. Nobody told them why they were there, but at that point, nobody really cared. Squad 7 hadn't seen real rest since before the Barious desert. Finding their quarters, most of the Squad slept through much of the first day, but everyone was eager to get out and see the city for the rest of the time off. Reims was primarily a shipping port, but it had its fair share of attractions. This being her first time on the coast, Freesia dragged Emile along with her. Though he was a tad frail, Emile was pretty smart. Who better to guide her on her first ocean voyage? She was surprised though. He almost seemed more excited to see it than she was.

Looking once more at Emile, a thought crossed her mind. He couldn't tear his gaze from the ocean. _This couldn't be his… _Her thoughts trailed off. No. Of course it couldn't. Oscar had talked about their trips to the shore all the way into the city. Freesia leaned up against the walkway railing and continued to watch the waves lap up onto the beach below.

* * *

It was about three feet long, one foot wide, half a foot tall, and absolutely beautiful. Who would have thought they would have something like this here? And at a construction site? The odds were one in a thousand, and the discovery almost made her weep with joy. She had read about it, that's for sure. For hours she would pour over the same article, reading it again and again until she had memorized every word. It gave enough information to wet the tongue, but not enough to really tell anyone how it was produced. Otherwise, she would have made it herself long ago. The engineers were lucky. They got to see the stuff all the time. That's what she'd wanted – to be an engineer. She didn't get the assignment. It had been a long walk, but just the opportunity to be so close to it made the whole trip worth it. The construction site was on the far edge of the city, and it had taken her almost the entire day to hike there. By the time she returned, she would have to report back for duty. That didn't matter now. She was fulfilled. With glazed eyes, Wendy Cheslock watched as two construction workers lifted the box of Torpex and returned it to the store room.

* * *

"How's this one look?"

"It's cute. I liked the red one better though. It suits you."

Cherry ran her fingers over the fabric of the yellow sundress she held up. It was soft to the touch. "Yeah, I guess so. Yellow is totally your color anyway." Replacing the dress on the rack, she continued to browse the isle. Ramona hadn't gotten much sleep since the last patrol, and Cherry decided to whip her up a dose of her miracle cure. Shopping. For the past three hours, the two had combed the local strip for the best deals. They weren't actually buying anything – they had no use for the dresses – but the fun was in the search. It was something normal.

"I'm more of a blue, actually. Yellow goes with my hair, but blue brings out my eyes." Ramona didn't exactly blame herself for Nina's death, but she did feel she could have prepared the section better. If she had treated the position of the outpost as an unknown instead of assuming it would move up the same way it always had before, maybe things would have turned out different.

"So. That's why you look so good in the uniform." No use dwelling over it now. Nina was dead. The unit had to move on. "You know, I'm really disappointed," Cherry said while picking another dress off the rack. "I was sooo looking forward to finally getting into a city and meeting a bunch of guys around town, but everyone here's military." It was true. Though they were outside of the military zone, soldiers from nearly every division of the Gallian Military walked the streets. At the moment, the town was a hive of activity, and it almost seemed like military personnel outnumbered the actual residents.

Ramona laughed. "Tell me about it. It's almost like they put a strip mall on base." Giving up on finding a dress, she stepped away from the rack and folded her arms. No longer focusing on the dresses, her thoughts began to wonder. The city. The ocean. The forest. Home. Her…

"Hey, let's get out of here, yeah?" Cherry had noticed her drifting. "Anything you want to see?"

Ramona thought for a second. "Yeah, actually. Wasn't there supposed to be some famous cathedral here or something? That could be cool."

Cherry had been hoping for another store, but she would play along for her friend. "Ohhh, yeah. We could totally check that out. Someone said it was damaged in EWI though and they were still repairing it… soooo… it might not be open."

"Only one way to find out, right?"

"Yes sir. lead the way sir." It was a sarcastic comment, and the two girls laughed. "Oh, by the way… We definitely need to stop at the post office on the way."

Ramona looked at the tips of her boots and put her hand on the back of her neck. "Oh… About that…" She didn't look up. "I uh… I threw it out."

"You what?"

"I threw it out. It was stupid." So was throwing it out. She knew how long Cherry had helped her write it. Looking up, she expected Cherry to be furious. Instead, her expression was only slightly annoyed. In fact, she looked like she had expected it. As shallow and materialistic as she was, Cherry was also a good friend.

"Alright, fine. But you totally still owe me for the help. How about you buy dinner on the way to the cathedral?" It was a fair trade. She would gladly pay for dinner if it got them off the subject. The two waved goodbye to the shopkeeper and exited the store.

* * *

It had been a long time since they had been able to go out like this. "Really, I mean it. How did you get a table here on such short notice?"

"Lynn, this place is a hole in the wall. It's not like there was a waiting list or anything."

The woman set her fork down. "I think it's kind of nice." She wasn't lying, but the restaurant was far from fancy. The two sat at a small table near the window. It was adorned with a plain white tablecloth, and it held a miniature vase holding some cheap flowers acting as a centerpiece. They were white. She liked them.

Karl and Lynn had met four years ago in Fouzen. Having just landed a job in the Iron Works, Karl's buddies decided to take him out to celebrate. Lynn was a friend of a friend. It just seemed to work out. When the war started, Karl joined the Militia in order to protect her. She was a Darcsen, and there were rumors going around that the Imperials were using them as expendable labor. Before leaving for boot camp he'd told her to go into hiding. Instead, within four months she had joined the Militia herself.

"Anything is nice compared to the mess hall. That doesn't make this place a five star restaurant."

"No, but it makes it a restaurant, and not a mess hall. When was the last time we went on a date? Look on the bright side." Just after retaking Vasel bridge. Karl remembered it well. The battle was Squad 7's first major operation, and once the city was secured, they enjoyed a short rest. He took Lynn to a similar restaurant.

_That place had been a hole in the wall too. Seems to be the trend lately. _Finishing his drink, Karl sat back and placed his hands on the table. "I guess. At least the company's good." Lynn's smile made the night worth it. "Speaking of the bright side, you were looking a little down earlier. Everything alright?"

"Karl, I'm fine," she sighed. "I _can _take care of myself, you know." He knew.

"Just checking." After four years of being together, he'd learned real quick which one of them was tougher. It wasn't him. There was still one thing nagging at him though. "Cezary doesn't bother you, does he?"

He was expecting Lynn to get upset and call him out for being overprotective. He didn't expect her to laugh. "Are you kidding? Cezary doesn't like Darcsens, but he doesn't bother any of us. He keeps his distance is all. We don't associate with him, he doesn't associate with us. It works out."

"I'm glad to hear that."

"Yeah. You know he actually saved Nadine's life once? He'll never admit to it, but I saw him take the shot." Before she continued, she started to chuckle. "After the battle, Nadine asked him who did it and he told her it was Marina. He's racist, but he's not stupid." After a pause she continued the thought. "Well, for a racist."

Karl was relieved. Cezary was in his section, and he didn't want any personal issues between the two of them. He knew the sniper looked down on him for his relationship with Lynn, but so far the disdain went unspoken. In fact, if they weren't in a war and Cezary didn't hate Darcsens, he might have been a nice guy to get a drink or two with. Maybe. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. While the two had to work together professionally, Karl held a grudge against the man for Lynn's sake, and Cezary held a grudge against Karl for falling in love with Lynn. _Almost like a love triangle._

Lynn took another sip of her drink. "If there's anyone to look out for, it's Rosina."

"Rosina? Really?"

"Yep, Rosina. She's got this whole body builder thing going on. Thinks we're inferior because we're supposedly weaker than other people." Lynn's expression went blank, and she stared out the window at the people walking by. "It's… stupid."

Karl sighed. He hadn't expected Rosina. "You know, I could talk to Musaad if you want. I'm sure he could…"

"No." Her voice was quiet, but firm. "That would just complicate things. I'll take care of it myself, alright? I'll prove her wrong."

"Alright."

"Alright?"

"Yeah. Alright. I won't interfere."

Once again, a smile lit her face. "Thank you, Karl." Her gaze shifted to her left hand. The light from the restaurant reflected off of the engagement ring Karl had given her before he left Fouzen. It wasn't fancy either – there was no stone – but it was still the most beautiful ring she'd ever seen.

* * *

By 2114, the last member of Squad 7 had returned to the barracks. Captain Varrot called lights out by 2300. In the morning, her Squads were to be briefed on the upcoming operation. At 2315, she walked into her own quarters and immediately fell asleep.

* * *

"The primary objective of this operation is the Marberry beachhead. Once a supply line is established, we'll begin pushing south into the mainland. This is going to be the biggest operation we've seen yet, so we won't be alone." Lieutenant Gunther stood on a small podium. It was a miracle that he'd managed to assemble all of Squad 7 inside the briefing room. It was packed wall to wall with people, and the crowd made it uncomfortably hot. Tugging at his collar, he scanned the crowd before he continued. _They're packed in here tighter than a litter of porcavians. _"General Damon will be leading the Second Army. They'll be our support." _Whatever that's worth…_

Truth be told, Welkin didn't believe Damon was competent enough to lead the assault. While he'd only been in the Militia for a few months, he'd seen enough of Damon's leadership to know that things started to fall apart whenever he was involved. There wasn't much he could do about it though, and he certainly wouldn't let his men see his misgivings. "There are three beaches we can make the landing on. The Army will be assaulting beaches one and two in the east. We'll be taking beach three to the west." Next to him, Alicia Melchiott shifted uncomfortably. All of Squad 7's sergeants had already been briefed, but they had to be present while Welkin addressed the rest of the Squad. As crowded as the room was, he was glad for the support. He was only the messenger, but he didn't expect the Squad to be happy with what he was about to tell them.

"After taking the beaches, we'll be linking up with the 1st and 2nd Infantry and 6th tank divisions. Damon is taking most of the Army south-east to Belfort. We're to head directly south to retake Rodez. It's not as big as Belfort, but it's got the only road that links Fouzen to Marberry running through it. If we can link the two, we'll have retaken all of Western Gallia. The Imperials know this." After a pause, he added, "We can expect it to be rough."

Squad 7 was no stranger to tough assignments. It had seemed they'd received the short end of the stick when it came to easy jobs. Although the jobs were dangerous, they had also given them a reputation within the Militia. However, that reputation also gave them more dangerous assignments. It was a vicious cycle.

"When's the operation taking place?" The question came from a red headed woman in the front row. Corporal Brigitte "Rosy" Stark. Her timing was wonderful, and she'd just asked the question Welkin was afraid to answer, but knew would come.

"The day after tomorrow. We'll be leaving by boat…" The rest of his sentence was lost under the roar his announcement had made.

"Attention! Attention! Welkin didn't plan the operation. Just hear him out." If there was anyone in the room Welkin could trust to have his back, it was Alicia. Within seconds, the noise died. With a nod, Alicia gave Welkin the OK to continue.

_Like a mother bear and her cubs, _he thought to himself. "As I was saying, we'll be boarding transport ships tomorrow afternoon. The assault begins early the next morning. We've been through tough operations before, this one isn't any different." He didn't like the idea any better than his troops, but it was his duty to keep a straight face in front of them. "Before you go, I want to see all NCOs for a quick meeting. Everyone else is dismissed. Grab a quick meal and get yourselves ready to go." Watching as his Squad filed out of the room, Welkin sighed. _I'm just not cut out for this. _Immediately, he smiled. He was glad.

* * *

Once cleared of people, the room cooled. Unfortunately, the debate didn't. Rosy wasn't at all happy with the situation. The day after tomorrow was the Feast of All Spirits. A day that would normally be celebrated was about to become a day of battle. "This is just great. Feast day and we've gotta' fight. You ever been to Marberry, boss? It's steep."

Welkin knew first hand just how rough the assault was going to be. He'd been in the region the summer before on a marine biology trip. "Yeah, there are a lot of cliffs in the area, but we've been handed the operation and we're going to carry it out."

"Do they want us dead? Cliffs mean guns. We can't just…"

Before she could finish the sentence, she was cut off. Largo Potter was the most experienced grunt in the Squad. When he talked, people listened. "We're Militiamen, Rosie. There are always guns."

"Yeah, I know that!" She was fuming. "I'm just saying, there's gotta' be a better way. We can't just run headlong into those guns and expect to survive."

Welkin thought about how to respond. "You're right, Rosie, but I don't think there's a way out of this one. If we had a way to blind the Imperials we could walk right through, but short of a miracle I don't think that's going to happen."

"Yeah, like they're all suddenly going to go blind." Rosie reached into her pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Putting one in her mouth, she lit it with her lighter. She liked to smoke when she was nervous. It was a dead giveaway. Isara hated it.

"Rosie, can you wait? You know I hate the smoke."

"Figures. Can't even light up a smoke with the dark hair around…" Standing up, she exhaled a lungful of smoke in Isara's direction. The cloud sent the girl into a coughing fit. "If we're done here, I'm out anyway." Cigarette in hand, Rosie exited the room. One by one, the NCOs followed her. Soon, only Welkin and Isara were left.

"I'm sorry about that Is. She's just on edge. Everyone is."

"I know. I don't blame her. It's just that smoke is…" Her thoughts trailed off. "That smoke!"

"Huh? Isara, are you…"

"Welks, I think I know how to get past the guns!" In a fit of mania, Isara jumped out of her chair and bolted to the door. "Oh, and about the Eidelweiss…"

* * *

Before anyone knew it, they'd loaded onto the transport ships and had set sail for Marberry. As the morning of the operation came, Squad 7 prepared to enter combat. On the deck of the ship, Freesia York looked over the railing and into the landing craft that would take her to the beach. While she didn't want to enter combat, she couldn't wait to get off the boat. Though the desert and the ocean may have looked similar, the desert didn't rock. Finally her time to load in came. Climbing into the landing craft, she eyed the beach. Its dark silhouette cut an imposing figure on the horizon ahead. A moment ago she would have done anything to get off the boat. Now she would have done anything to get back on. It was too late. The assault had begun.

* * *

Next Engagement: Charlie Don't Surf


	4. Charlie Don't Surf

**Engagement 4: Charlie Don't Surf**

For the second time since boarding the landing craft, Marina Wulfstan checked her weapon. _Loaded. Sights zeroed. Safety on._ The gun was a modified Mags M10, stripped of automatic fire and outfitted with a mid range scope – very similar to the DMR weapons carried by the designated marksmen of the Randgriz Royal Guard. A decent shot with the weapon could hit targets 500 meters away. That didn't make her hate it any less. If she had things her way, she would still be carrying her GSR-12. She also wouldn't be a Corporal.

She'd taken command of Squad 7's 3rd section during the battle in the Barious Desert. Their old section leader had the misfortune of showing the unit that they'd wondered into a hastily thrown together minefield. Using her keen eyesight, she was able to guide the survivors out of the area without any further casualties. Upon linking up with the rest of Squad 7, she received a temporary battlefield promotion to Corporal and was put in charge of 3rd section for the rest of the operation. It stuck. The new promotion came with new requirements. Leading a section, she wouldn't have the option of only engaging in long range combat. While her DMR style sniper weapon didn't have the stopping power of a rifle, the firing rate of a fully automatic Mags, or the range of her GSR, it gave her the ability to engage ranged targets while having at least a better chance of surviving a close encounter. Saving her unit in the desert had changed more than her rank. _And that was my first mistake. _

Leading a section meant constantly dealing with people. Marina could handle people in small doses, but leading an entire group of them full time was a distraction, and it was beginning to wear her down. Although she'd only been in charge of the section for less than two months, she'd already gone though a record number of Lance Corporals. Nobody could stand to work with her for more than a week or so. That is, until Nils Daerden came along. Nils and Marina shared a very similar personality – at least on the surface. They just wanted to be left alone and for people to stay out of their business. Because of this, they complimented each other well. Marina didn't feel suffocated by his management, and Nils was comfortable with her detached command. However, while they were very similar, they didn't get along personally. Marina suspected it was because she was a woman.

After checking her weapon, she turned to check her section. She wished they were as easy to maintain as her weapons. In her spare time, Marina spent hours meticulously stripping, cleaning, and oiling her firearms. It showed. She'd yet to experience a single misfire. Right now, she wished she could say the same about her unit. Before she'd let her Lances handle section maintenance. It didn't seem Nils was the type for group interaction either. Making a mental note to do something about the section later, she prepared herself for the landing.

Luckily, if all went according to plan the landing itself was going to be pretty easy. Isara spent the entire night before Squad 7 shipped out preparing smoke rounds for the Eidelweiss. Just before the landing craft made it to shore, the Eidlweiss was to fire the smoke rounds all across the beach, providing cover for the Militia Squads to storm the beachhead and take out the machine gun bunkers defending the shoreline. Her unit would be ready for that.

The beach was intimidating though. Overhead, Marina could hear the whine of artillery shells. They landed harmlessly in the ocean all around the landing crafts and sent spray in every direction. Meekly, Kevin Abbot opened his mouth. "Y-You don't think we'll get hit, do you?"

"No. No, we'll be fine." It was Melville Young. "The Imps couldn't hit us with those shells at this distance. Hell, they couldn't hit the side of a…" Before Melville could finish the thought, he was interrupted by a deafening boom. Turning towards the noise, Marina watched as the front end of the landing craft next to them burst into flames. Everyone was shouting.

"Which craft was that?"

"Was that the one with…"

_The Eidelweiss. _Immediately after the thought crossed her mind, Marina watched as the tank slipped out of the sinking craft and into the ocean. Without the Eidelweiss they would have to take Marberry without the protection of the smoke. She looked back at the beach. There were an awful lot of guns.

"Shit Mel!" Ted yelled. "Way to go and jinx the whole thing! What are we supposed to do now?"

"Dude! How is this my fault?!" Melville was frantic. Everyone was. The entire section was losing control.

_Someone's got to say something. _Marina looked to Nils. He hadn't changed expressions since they'd boarded the boat. In fact, she wasn't even sure he'd looked when the Eidelweiss got hit. _Dammit Daerden, say something! _He wasn't going to budge. It would have to be her.

"This doesn't change anything," she relented. "We'll take the beach alone. Just remember the plan from before. The only way off that beach is to take those guns. We don't need help. We can do it ourselves." After a moment's pause, she continued with her own orders. "Nobody stops for anything. If I get hit and go down, nobody renders aid. I don't care if I'm bleeding out and screaming to the Valkyrur. You keep moving and get to cover. If you stop you'll only make yourself a target." The implication of her words went unspoken.

The section became silent, but she could see her words hadn't done much to help calm their nerves. If anything, they were even more freaked out than before. _Damn. Never was any good at that kind of thing._ Suddenly, the back end of the boat started to laugh. The laughter caught on, and soon everyone but Marina was laughing. Even Nils showed signs of a smirk. Ted had cracked a joke. Though she found the kid more annoying than anything else, she did appreciate how Ted could defuse situations even as dire as this in an instant. While she'd been neglecting the unit, someone else had been keeping it together. _Good to know. _Checking her weapon for the third time, Marina locked her one unconcealed eye on the beach and prepared for whatever fate she was about to make for herself.

* * *

_Welkin! No! _Juno couldn't believe what she'd just seen. Ever since meeting him at their university, she had been hopelessly in love with Welkin. Now he was… _No. He can't be dead. He can't. _But he was. _I… I can't do this… Not without… Not without…_

She felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Wavy. "Sir, we're ready to follow your orders." He needed to get her focused. She must have been telegraphing her feelings. Once more the man spoke. "Sergeant Coren, we'll be on the beach soon. Without the Eidelweiss, we'll need you to guide us. Just give us the word."

Slowly her shock began to wear off. She had to get her bearings. Welkin was… out of the fight. That put Alicia in charge. _But Alicia… may not be any better off than I am. _Juno Coren was love struck, but she was no fool. Over the past few months she could do nothing but watch as Alicia and Welkin became closer and closer. Dangerously close. In this case, she had to assume the worst. If Alicia was indeed in love with Welkin, she'd have lost her bearings as well. _That means Largo. He has experience. He's watched friends… _She couldn't finish. _I can't do this. _"Wavy, I…"

Wavy looked at her firmly. "I know, Juno. I know." How? Didn't matter now. "We have to go on, and we need you to do it."

"But…"

"No. Listen to me now. I need you to do something for me." He was serious. Dead serious. "Take off your glasses and wipe them down."

_What? Wipe my glasses? _It was an odd request. Hesitantly, she complied. After replacing her glasses she looked up at Wavy.

"Good. See? You're in control. You can't let fear or loss control you. If you can wipe down your glasses, you can help lead this platoon. It's just as easy as fixing your glasses."

_Is he… serious? _Looking into his eyes, she could tell he was. "I… Alright."

"Don't think about Welkin. He's a tough kid. Right now, you have to think about them." With his hand, Wavy pointed the troops in the landing craft. They looked just as scared as Juno. Instantly she felt ashamed. "Keep your mind on the mission. We can worry about the Lieutenant later. If you want to talk, I'll be happy to listen. But for right now, you have to keep your head." After a seconds pause, he added, "Sir."

_Welkin is… gone, but I can still fix my glasses. I can do this. _As ridiculous as that sounded, she felt a new surge of confidence flow through her. _I can do this._ Nodding to Wavy she turned to face the rest of the platoon. Staff Sergeant Zaka was with the Shamrock on another transport. That left her to lead the troops on foot.

"Alright, listen up!" The force of her voice startled her. "The Eidelweiss is down, but we can't assume the Lieutenant is dead. I won't believe it. Not until I see a body." She wasn't as convinced as she sounded, but it was the act that was important. Maybe she could even fool herself. "We need to secure this beach so that Welk… The Lieutenant can walk up safely when he's recovered. He won't be here to watch us, but he'll know what we've done!" Looking at her audience, she could see it was working. Feeling a little more confident, she continued. "There's only one path leading off the beach. It's got two bunkers covering it. We're taking the one on the right. As soon as we unload, get in position to breach. Good luck."

Turning to face the beach, she gave one last shudder. _Welkin. We'll be waiting. _Once more Wavy gave her a pat on the back. "Thank you, Wavy." To her own disbelief, she smiled.

"You did it yourself."

Juno's platoon would be the second one off the landing craft. As the small boat lurched its way to the shore, she said a quick prayer and readied her weapon. _This is it. _Within half a minute, the craft hit the shoreline. Before she even realized it, the ramp dropped, and the battle began.

* * *

The first five soldiers didn't make it out of the landing craft. The fourth was lucky. He made four steps before running into a hail of bullets. Noce Wordsworth watched in horror as the platoon ahead of them was torn to shreds. _We don't stand a chance. _

"Hey! What the Hell are you waiting for! Get moving!" Rosie's yelling brought him back to his senses. Stepping forward he tapped the back of the person in front of him.

"Let's go!" Pushing towards the front of the landing craft he prepared to hit the beach. After the initial wave of machine gun fire, targets began to disperse. That gave the soldiers a better chance of making it out of the craft. "Move!"

As Noce moved forward, the man in front of him got hit. Blood sprayed from the back of his head and covered his uniform. Ignoring the mess, he stepped over the man's body and onto the beach. The place was in chaos. _I have to find Corporal Stark. _Before he could act, the sound of a round flying past his head sent him to his stomach. Instantly the ground around him was rent by a storm of bullets. Sand flew everywhere. Ahead of him, a shell burst sent a man flying. _I need cover first. _

Crawling, Noce made his way to a small tank obstacle. It wasn't good cover, but it was something. _Now to find Stark. _Looking left and right down the beach, he scanned for familiar faces. None. Fearing the worst, he looked back towards the landing craft. None of the bodies looked familiar. _That's a relief. Wait… _ Looking into the craft he could see Elysse Moore and Salinas. _What the Hell are they doing still in the craft? _Then he saw. Elysse was hit in the leg. Salinas was trying to help her.

"Hey! Salinas!" Noce's yelling couldn't carry over the sounds of the battle. "Salinas!"

Whether he'd heard him or not, Salinas looked up. As he waved for help with Elysse, he was struck in the shoulder. Noce watched as he tumbled to the floor of the landing craft. Just then, he heard a familiar voice.

"Leave them! They'll be safer in the craft!"

Noce turned to see where the voice had come from. Just ahead he could see Vyse Inglebard. "Vyse! Where's Corporal Stark?"

As Vyse turned to look, his jaw dropped. "Noce! Are you alright? You're covered in blood!"

He looked down. He'd gotten more sprayed on him than he originally thought. "Not mine! Where's Corporal Stark?"

Vyse pointed up the beach. "Up ahead! We've got to catch up! Most of the unit is with her!"

"We can't move through this!"

"Come on, Noce! Think of it as a challenge!" Noce couldn't believe it, but Vyse was grinning. "Besides! No choice!"

Just then another shell burst took out the tank obstacle next to him. The three men taking cover behind it were thrown back. One of them was missing a leg. Vyse was right. They couldn't stay there. Mustering up all of his courage, Noce fell in behind Vyse. Together they began to make their way up the beach. Up ahead he could see the two bunkers. From their position they could hit anything trying to get through the path that lead off the beach.

"Yeeeehaw!" Vyse gave a whoop. "This is what I'm talking about Noce!"

_He's batshit insane. We're all going to die and he's cheering. _Then another thought. _Maybe that's how he wants to go out. _It was a sobering idea. _How do I want to die?_ Hitting Vyse on the shoulder, Noce signaled a stop behind the next obstacle. "Vyse, take a look around and see if you can find Stark." Nodding, Vyse began to scan the beach.

"There! I've got her." Looking to where he was pointing, Noce could see Rosie and the small contingent of 2nd section that had found her. "Let's go!" Vyse got up and started sprinting towards Rosie's position. As he got up to follow, Noce felt a sharp pain in his back.

_No! Not now! _Noce had a bad back. All the stress of running up the beach and jumping behind cover had agitated it. _Got to move! _Ignoring the pain, he began to run forward. Just as he'd left, an artillery shell landed in the position he'd just occupied. Ears ringing, he was thrown to the ground. Bits of sand and debris began raining down on his head. _What I wouldn't do for a helmet right now._

Helmets were standard issue for Militia troops. However, after the Imperials took the production factories at Fouzen the Gallians faced a shortage. The Army took priority, and the Militia was temporarily left without the protective gear. The sand and debris stung as it struck Noce's unprotected head. Cursing, he picked himself up and ran to catch up with Vyse.

Reaching the obstacle, Noce could see that the rest of the section hadn't fared much better than he had. Rosie was kneeling over a fellow Militia soldier. At her side was Fina, one of Squad 7's medics. Looking over, he could see that the man had three gunshot wounds to the chest. They were pouring blood. Pulling Rosie off to the side, Fina gave her assessment on the man's condition. "I can't save him," she said looking Rosie square in the eyes. "I can give him some Ragnaid to help dull the pain, but I can't stop the bleeding."

"Alright, do it." Rosie moved over to let Fina do her job. Pulling out a syrette of Ragnaid, the medic injected the painkiller into the wounded man. Within seconds his moaning ceased. Turning her head, Rosie saw that Vyse and Noce had made it to her position. "About time you boys showed up. See anyone else out there?"

"No sir," Noce responded. "We hit the beach and ran for it. By the time we…"

"Hey!" Oscar Bielert was pointing as he yelled. "Here comes Nash!"

Sure enough, Walter Nash was running up the beach towards their position. "Good," Rosie said relieved. "Along with Yoko that gives us two lancers. When he gets here we'll…

_Boom._

The shell went off about three feet to Walter's right. The blast picked the man up and threw him to the ground eight feet from his original position. As he struck the ground, Vyse started to stand. Grabbing the back of his uniform, Rosie pushed him to the ground. "You idiot!" she yelled. "Stay behind cover! Nash'll be fine!"

Sure enough, Walter's lancer armor took most of the impact. Though bruised, he was still alive. "I'm alright!" He called. Crawling now, he continued towards Rosie's position. "I'm fine! Don't worry about…"

A line of rounds kicked up the sand in Nash's direction. As it intersected with his body, the sand was replaced by three streams of a fine pink mist. Instantly the big man fell to the ground.

"Walter!" Once again, Vyse tried to stand, and once again Rosie threw him down.

"You dumbass! Do you want to die too?" There was nothing he could do. The woman wouldn't let him leave. "The only thing we can do now is take that bunker." Rosie looked around to see who she had to work with. Inglebard. Wordsworth. Martens. Wyatt. Bielert. Turner. Not enough, but it would have to do. "Alright, I want everyone on me. It's an open stretch of beach to the bunkers. We don't have any other options. We're just going to have to run it." Looking at the open stretch made her nauseous. There was no way they could make it. "Alright, on me, let's…

"Wait! What's that?"

Rosie turned to see what Yoko was pointing at, and couldn't believe her eyes. Coming out of the surf was the Eidelweiss.

* * *

"You really saved us there, Is." Welkin was sitting in the turret of the Eidelweiss. Just below him, Isara began to drive the battle tank up the beach. As Isara designed the smoke rounds, she decided that it might be a good idea to refit the Eidelweiss with the waterproof plating they'd used to capture the Vasel bridge. Marberry was a beach, after all, and beaches meant water. While she couldn't have known at the time that their ship would be sunk, the gamble had paid off. As the Eidelweiss sank to the bottom of the ocean, she worried that the plating might not be able to take the strain of impact as the tank hit the ocean floor. Though it buckled and moaned, it held firm. The ocean floor was rocky enough to provide traction, and the tank was on its way. Isara couldn't help but smile.

"Welks, we're ready to begin firing the ISARA smoke rounds." She looked back at her brother. Locking eyes, he gave his orders.

"Begin firing!" One by one, the Eidelweiss shot off its payload of the ISARA rounds. As the shells impacted the beach, they burst into clouds of smoke. Before long, it was impossible to see anything past the smokescreen. "That'll give the Squad a chance to take those guns. You really saved us today, Is."

"No," Isara replied, remembering a certain pack of cigarettes. "It wasn't just me…"

* * *

Rosie stared in disbelief. "She really did it… I can't believe she really did it." The stretch they were about to run just moments before unaided was now covered with smoke. It would be impossible for the Imps to see them coming. Regaining her composer, she turned to her hastily thrown together unit. "Stay on me! Don't get lost in that smoke. We're moving up to take that bunker on the right with 1st section. 3rd and 4th sections will take the one on the left. Let's go!"

At that, the group began its sprint. As they entered the smokescreen, visibility dropped to near zero. If she hadn't pointed herself in the direction of the bunker beforehand, Rosie never would have been able to find it. After a minute of running, the section came up to the bunker. Following the wall of the emplacement, they made their way to a small path that led up to the entryway. "Eyes open," Rosie barked. "Watch out for friendly fire."

Moving slower now, the group started up the path. As they neared the entrance, two silhouettes made their way out of the bunker. Squeezing her trigger, Rosie put four rounds into the chest plate of the first one. Realizing what had happened, the second turned to run. He was too late. Noce opened fire, and the fleeing Imperial took a hit to the back of the head. Rosie waved her hand towards the door. "Stack up."

Preparing to breach the bunker, the section lined up at the door. Prepping entry, Vyse tossed three grenades into the complex. As the explosives went off, they filed in. Any further action was unnecessary. The grenades had killed the gunners inside. Looking around, they were astonished at the sheer firepower the bunker had contained. Six guns lined the firing holes, and the floor was littered with a sea of empty casings. Thousands upon thousands of rounds had been fired. And this was only one bunker.

Suddenly, Rosie was startled by the sound of a weapon discharging within the bunker. Raising her weapon as she turned, she watched as Jane fired into one of the Imperial gunners. "Jane! Cease fire! They're dead!"

"Yeah, I know." She was smiling.

Looking back across the way, the unit watched as the other bunker burst into flames. 3rd and 4th sections must have opted to use a flame thrower. Effective. With both bunkers clear, the Militia was ready to move off of the beach and take the enemy's mainland fortification. "Alright, the beach is clear, but the battle isn't over yet." Rosie flicked her nose. The air was rank with the blood of the dead Imperials. "We're moving inland. Check weapons and ammo, and fall in on me." As the unit checked their gear, Rosie thought about their next move. _We'll have to link up with the Lieutenant and regroup. Then it's inland. _After everyone checked out, they left the bunker. The smoke had begun to clear. Making their way back down the path, 2nd section headed down to meet up with the rest of Squad 7 and finish the fight.

* * *

Next Engagement: That Ragoline Smell


	5. That Ragoline Smell

**Engagement 5: That Ragoline Smell**

It wasn't long before Squad 7 found itself involved in another firefight. After capturing the bunkers, the Militia began its advance on the mainland, and having lost the beach, the Imperials weren't going to give up their base without a fight. Fighting their way past two machine gun nests, Squad 7 pushed into a network of elaborate trenches. Homer Peron didn't mind the fighting. He didn't even mind the bullets whizzing past his head. He did, however, mind the sand in his boots and the dirt lining the trench walls. If given the choice between crawling through the dirt ridden trenches and being shot, he might take the bullet. It could even be fun.

"Homer!" Looking up, Homer saw Musaad's intimidating glare. "Get your head out of the clouds! If we wonder into a minefield and you're not paying enough attention to give us the heads up, I'm holding you accountable for everyone we lose!"

"Oh… Yes, sir," Homer answered absentmindedly. As he began to move forward again, a bullet struck the top of the trench. He wasn't afraid of the bullet, but the impact rained dirt around him. Homer didn't want to be in the trench. He would much rather face his enemy above ground. Look at his enemy eye to eye and go down in a hail of bullets like…

"Homer! The section is going to leave us behind! Pay attention and get moving!" Turning, Homer could see the face of Edy Nelson, one of the unit's shock troopers. She was nice enough, but he thought she was a bit of a narcissist. He liked Elysse better, but with Elysse down, Edy would have to do for company. She could fill the part though, and to her credit she did have a good…

_Whack._

The right hook struck Homer across the face. In an instant, he was on the ground. Before he could get his bearings, Edy lifted him up and pointed him down the trench. "Now hurry up. They'll move on without us if you don't catch up."

"Right away, Miss Edy." Homer started to move as he ran his fist across his nose. Blood. "That was a pretty good hit, Edy."

"Well of course it was. It came from me." Maybe things wouldn't be so dull with Elysse gone after all. Together the engineer and the shock trooper moved through the trench. Within twenty seconds they had caught up with the rest of 1st section. Wavy had stopped them and turned to brief the unit.

"Edy, get up here." He paused as he waited for the girl to move next to him. Peeking over the trench wall, he continued. "You see that trench over there?" Edy nodded. "Three scouts and a trooper. It's connected to our segment of trench, but they've probably got it covered around the other end. Stay here with Homer and Freesia and put some suppression on it."

"Yes, sir!"

"I'll take the rest of the section around and take them from the flank." Reloading his rifle, he looked over the rest of his unit. "Alright, let's head out." Without another word, they departed.

Looking over the wall, Homer could see their targets. Only their heads were visible above the trench, and they were firing at the other advancing Militia sections. If they were lucky, the Imperials would start shooting back at them once they started the suppression. Taking aim, Edy flicked off her weapon's safety. "Ready?"

Without waiting for a response, she opened fire. Immediately, Homer and Freesia followed suit. As soon as the rounds connected around them, the Imperials ducked back into the trench. "That'll put their heads down!" Freesia cheered. A second later, the enemy shock trooper lifted his gun out of the trench and fired blindly. The rounds flew harmlessly over the trio's heads.

"Good, I've got their attention," Edy said as she forced another magazine into her weapon.

Freesia stopped firing and stared at her. "I think you mean we've got their attention."

"Yes… Yes, of course," she chuckled nervously. "We've got their attention. But I started firing first!"

The trio continued firing. Suddenly, the Imperial shock trooper turned away from the group and pointed down the trench. Before either of the other two could look, the trench exploded. All three of the targets went down. A few seconds later, Wavy's head appeared where the Imperials had been. Waving, he called for the group to return.

Edy blushed. "Another day saved by the great Edy."

Once again, Freesia glared at her. "And Freesia. And Homer."

"Yeah Miss Edy, you forgot about…"

_Whack._

Once again, Homer hit the ground. "You know, Miss Edy, those gloves are really heavy. It's a wonder you haven't broken my nose." Just the thought sent shivers up his spine. He couldn't tell if it was fear or glee.

"Well, stop slowing us down! What are you doing on your back! We need to catch up!" With that, Edy took off down the trench. Lending her hand, Freesia helped Homer back onto his feet.

"Are you alright, Homer?" she asked with a worried look on her face. "I swear I'll never understand that girl…"

"Oh, I'm quite fine, Freesia." Homer rubbed his nose. More blood. "I have a good feeling about this one…" Freesia stared at him.

"Are you…" Without bothering to finish, she shook her head. "Whatever. Let's go." Together, the two soldiers continued down the trench to reunite with the rest of their unit.

* * *

"750 meters."

_KRACK!_

"Hit."

Peering though his spotting scope, Cezary scanned the area for targets. Next to him, Staff Sergeant Catherine O'Hara lay prone with her GSR-12. Together, they held their position on top of the canyon walls and covered the rest of Squad 7's advance. With a pen and a notebook, Cezary called out targets for O'Hara to engage.

"Behind the sandbags… 735 meters."

_KRACK!_

"Hit."

Scanning the trench system in front of them, he caught another target. Picking up his pen, he began his calculations. _Let's see… 2.2 mil dots. Looks about 6 feet. That's… 72 inches. Times 25.4… Divided by 2.2… _Cezary's pen worked furiously as he calculated the distance. _That puts him at… _"Next to the tree. 830 meters."

_KRACK!_

"Hit."

"Like fish in a barrel, eh Regard?" Catherine worked her bolt as Cezary scanned for more targets.

"Yeah… almost." His pen was working again. "Runner, 760 meters."

Catherine took aim. The man was running laterally across her scope. After setting the crosshair on his head, she adjusted her aim for distance and his speed. When she was satisfied, the crosshair was three mil dots above and to the left of her target.

_KRACK!_

"Miss."

_He's slow, _Catherine thought to herself as she took aim again. This time, she cut the lead.

_KRACK!_

Catherine watched as the bullet impacted the man mid stride. Stumbling, he crashed to the ground.

"Hit."

"Yeah, but I wasted two shots on him. Getting sloppy in my old age." Having served in EWI, Catherine was the most experienced sniper in Squad 7. "Two shots… How are we doing on ammo?"

Cezary stopped his calculations. "You know how much ammo you had me lug up here? We're fine. You could last all week up here." Once more he put the pen to the notebook. "Even with shooting like that."

"Trust me," she replied. "You'll be glad we have it."

Cezary sighed. He didn't see why they needed so much, and it was always his job to carry the stuff. _Whatever. _Once more he peered into the scope. _There. _He was looking at a shock trooper next to a jeep. _2.5 mils…_

* * *

Melville's shot hit its mark. The bullet slammed through the soldier's chest plate and sent him sprawling. "Hey Ted! You see that shot?"

"Naw." Ted fired another volley of shots. "Got my hands full for the moment." 3rd section had made it to the end of the trench system. Ahead of them lay an open field. The path swung left, and they would have to move across the field to reach the enemy encampment. Firing two more shots, Ted took down the last scout. "That clears it! Two points for Ted!"

"Alright Ted!" Melville called. "That settles it. Team Funny Bone takes the game and wins another one for…"

"Can it." The voice stopped Melville cold. "You two are on overwatch." Silently, Marina hopped out of the trench and motioned for the rest of the group to follow.

"Dude, that woman is scary," Melville said as they left hearing range.

"Yeah…" Ted raised his weapon and covered the advance. "You know she hasn't laughed once? Not one damn time."

"Not your fault, Teddy." Melville also raised his weapon. "Some people are just hard-asses. Can't have fun with those types."

"I'll get her," he said with a determined look in his eye. "I'll get her if it kills me."

"Yeah, well, let's hope it doesn't. Who else would I…" A group of five Imperials turned the corner. "Contact! Five!" Immediately the two opened fire, and the rest of the section ahead of them went prone. They were too far away to get an accurate shot on.

From her position on the ground, Marina brought her scope up to her eye. With one of the kneeling Imperials in her crosshair, she made some quick calculations. _450 meters. _With a light squeeze of her trigger, the target went down. Aiming at another Imperial, she repeated the process. Marina Wulfstan wasn't the quickest sniper in Squad 7 because her arms were steadier or because she was more focused than the other snipers. In fact, given an unlimited amount of time Catherine and Emile could easily hit more targets than her on a shot for shot basis. Unfortunately, time wasn't something that was unlimited on the battlefield. Marina was the quickest because she could calculate variables like bullet drop, wind speed, elevation, humidity, and a whole slew of other factors necessary to make a shot in half the time as any other sniper in the unit – in her head.

Once again she pulled the trigger. _Two down. _Moving her crosshair, she aimed at her third target. _3 mils. That puts him at…_

"Nice shooting, Marina!" Hannes's outburst distracted her for only a fraction of a second. It was enough. Her shot went wide.

_So many people… Can't shoot straight like this... _Before she could take aim again, the three targets were down.

"Someone's looking out for us," Mica Hawkins cheered. Looking back, Marina couldn't see anyone. The other snipers were doing their job.

"Keep moving." Waving for Ted and Melville to regroup, she pushed the unit forward. As they rounded the corner, they immediately took fire.

Kevin Abbot hit the ground. "Tank!"

As Melville rounded the corner he immediately dove behind a stack of sandbags. "We've got to take that thing out quick! It'll tear us apart if we don't take it down." The tank's machine gun had the section suppressed. To make matters worse, a group of shock troopers moved along with it. "Nils, can you take that thing out?"

"You don't order me, kid." Nils exposed just enough of his body to let him take a shot. He aimed at the tank and fired. The shaped charge struck the tank at an angle and ricocheted harmlessly off the turret. Nils gave a quiet humph. "That was my last shot."

"Well how the Hell are we going to take that tank out now?" Ted lifted his rifle over the sandbags and fired.

"Maybe you could walk up and tell it a joke," Nils mused.

"And that would stop it how?"

Nils smiled. "It wouldn't, but you'd be doing us all a favor."

"Yeah," Ted retorted. "You would be the type to laugh at your own jokes. You know, that's in really bad…" He was cut off when a tank shell landed just in front of his position. The sandbags held, but it was only a matter of time before the tank got lucky.

The bullets flew all around them. Kevin was sure everyone was about to die. Raising his Mags M10, he began to fire a volley at the tank. It was a waste of ammo. He thought about switching his aim towards one of the shock troopers, but he couldn't decide which, so he kept firing on the tank. Suddenly, it exploded. _What the…_

Following a trail of smoke, Marina turned her gaze to the other side of the canyon. The lance round had come from 4th section's Audrey Heitinga. Looking closer, she could see Ramona Linton with her hands cupped around her mouth. "Hey! Hey Marina!" She was calling out to her. "How's it feel to be saved by the best looking section in the Militia?"

"Humiliating…" she mumbled. Within seconds the shock troopers were down. "We're moving forward with 4th section. Keep an eye on the entrance to that base."

"Oh, I'll keep BOTH of my eyes on it." Ted's comment was met with a glare. Rejected, his eyes dropped to the ground. "Well, I guess it was worth a shot." Weapons at the ready, the two units moved in to capture the base.

* * *

The two groups moved into the camp with little initial resistance. Sending a scout forward, they surveyed the area. There were two paths. The main path through the camp was heavily guarded, but there was also enough space between the far building and the outer wall to move a few men through. After formulating a plan, 3rd section moved up the main path to engage the enemy. 4th section moved behind the building. Wendy Cheslock was at the front of the group. "Hey Wendy," Hermes called from behind her, "See anything?"

Peeping her head around the corner of the building, Wendy could see three whole squads of Imperials and two tanks. "Yeah…" she replied in her drawn out voice. "Lots of em'. We can't take them with guns alone…" She continued searching. 3rd section was taking a lot of fire. They would have to act quickly. "There's nothing… Wait." Slowly, a smile spread across her face. Hermes knew this was a bad sign.

"Uh… Wendy?" he stammered. "Wendy, don't do anything stupid. Alright? Wendy?"

She didn't pay any attention. Instead, she raised her weapon and took aim at the large store of ragnite containers across the camp. "Heh… Ragoline. Ka-boom." She pulled the trigger, and all Hell broke loose.

The initial blast took out a squad's worth of Imperials and the first tank. As the flames spread, the soldiers attempted in vain to run. One by one they were engulfed within the inferno. When the flames died, 4th section moved in. The Imperials didn't stand a chance. Caught in a crossfire, any soldiers who hadn't been killed in the explosion went down quickly. Firing her lance, Audrey scored a direct hit on the second tank's radiator. Having taken down both tanks, the base was theirs.

Once more, Ramona called out to Marina. "Hey Marina! You guys alright?"

It was Nils who answered. "What the Hell was that? If you're going to blow the place up, let us know ahead of time!"

"Heh, sorry!" Wendy looked at the crater her explosion left behind. Satisfied, she took a sip of her canteen.

"We'll need a medic here!" Nils called again. "Nothing serious, but half of us have all sorts of burns. Mostly first degree. Everyone's at least singed."

"Well, it's better than being shot, yeah?" Ramona leaned back against the side of the building and looked at her watch. It was only two. Sighing, she pulled out her canteen.

"You clear that building yet?" Startled, Ramona turned to the speaker. It was Marina.

"Woah, didn't even hear you coming." Pushing off the wall, she turned to face the other woman. "Yeah. Karl and Dorothy are on that now." Before continuing, she turned to look at the Imperial flag waving over the base. "We'll have to change that though. Those colors are awful. I'm thinking blue would look better. We'll have to get…" as she turned back she saw that Marina had already walked off. "Figures." Taking another sip from her canteen, she slung her rifle around her shoulder and moved to take down the Imperial flag and replace it with Gallia's own.

* * *

Next Engagement: I Will Fight No More Forever


	6. Fight No More Forever

**Engagement 6: I Will Fight No More Forever**

In one big stride, Welkin Gunther dismounted from the Eidelweiss and began to survey the captured base. Surprisingly, it was still mostly intact. The storehouse was completely destroyed, and the surrounding buildings were damaged, but overall it was in workable order. It was hard for him to believe that just twenty minutes before the place had been a battlefield. Fixing his cap, Welkin made his way to the camp's command building. He would rather have been going to a mess hall, but business came first, and a debriefing was more important than a meal. Upon entering the building, Welkin hesitated. He could see the door to the conference room, and he knew his officers were waiting there, but he didn't want to go in. _Well, let's hear the damage. _Taking a breath, he opened the door and stepped in.

"Squad, attention!" Alicia had been waiting for him.

"At ease." He was still uncomfortable with the formalities, but Alicia insisted. Around him the Squad's NCOs were seated around a large table. The room was otherwise empty. It seemed the Imperials didn't want to leave anything the Militia could use behind. "First off, I just want to say you guys really did a good job out there. Things didn't exactly go as planned, but you all adapted to the situation as needed. I'm proud of every one of you."

Pausing, he looked around the table. His troops were dirty, but overall they seemed in good spirits. Wavy was sitting without his glasses, and Juno was displaying the most intense smile he'd ever seen. Her attitude was infectious, and Welkin started to feel a little better himself. _Maybe this won't be so bad after all. _"The landing was only the first part of our mission, but so far it's been a success. We took the beachhead three hours before expected, so we'll have a little bit of a breather before we start to move into the mainland." Grabbing a chair, he took a seat. "Unfortunately, Squads 3 and 5 are still fighting for their objectives, and the Army's 2nd Infantry division is caught up on the beaches, so we'll have to wait for them to clear their sections before we can link up. From what I've heard their beach was even more heavily defended than ours."

"And I thought ours was bad." Juno's smile still didn't fade. "Luckily we had the Eidelweiss. I can't imagine what would have happened if… Well, we had you, and that's what matters."

"Actually, you have Isara to thank for that." Isara began to blush. "If she hadn't thought of refitting the water proof armor, we wouldn't have made it to the beach."

"No, it was nothing. Just a little bit of work over in the hanger before we set off."

Wavy turned his gaze to Isara. "No, it wasn't nothing. You saved a lot of lives by thinking ahead like that. Before you covered the beach with smoke it was… Not very likely we all would have made it here."

Welkin had been hoping he could hold it off, but Wavy's comment brought the issue to the front, and if he didn't ask now he would dread it later. "How are we doing on casualties?"

Clearing his throat, Wavy put on his glasses and brought out a piece of paper. "Casualties were lighter than expected thanks to the smoke screen. Walter Nash was killed on the beach. Elysse Moore and Salinas Milton were hit in the landing craft. We radioed in to medical; Elysse is fine. She was just grazed in the leg, and she'll be back within the next few days. Salinas was hit pretty bad in the shoulder and almost bled to death in the craft. They saved him, but he'll be out for a good long while."

One dead. Welkin was relieved that it had been that light, but one dead was still one dead. "Alright," he said as he removed his cap. "Anyone else?"

"Nothing serious," Wavy continued. "Fina's got the rest covered. A couple of scrapes here and there. A graze or two. 3rd section got a bit roughed up in the explosion, but I think that was the worst of it."

Looking over, Welkin could see that parts of Marina's sleeve were burned. She didn't seem to take any notice though, so he didn't make an issue out of it. "Thanks, Wavy." The hard part was over. Pulling out his own list, he began going over preparations for the coming operation. "First thing, we've cleared this base, but the surrounding area still has Imperial activity. 2nd section, I want you to take first shift on guard. You got that Rosie?" She didn't answer. "Rosie?"

"Oh… sorry. Yeah. First shift on guard. Sure thing, boss." Welkin could tell something else was on her mind, but she repeated his order, so he let it go. After replying, Rosie continued to stare out the window.

"Ok. The Captain is over with Squad 1 right now, but she'll be headed over here as soon as she finishes up there. Ramona, grab two more people and escort her over. Take a jeep."

"Yes sir."

He continued down the list. "1st section, the storehouse was mostly destroyed, but take a look around the base and see if there isn't anything we can salvage. We'll need everything we can get our hands on over the next few days."

Wavy nodded. "We'll take care of it, sir."

_Almost done. _"3rd section, you're on reserves. Make sure you all get your burns checked out. I don't want anyone not able to move later." Marina nodded.

There was only one thing left on the list, and it almost broke Welkin's heart. With a sigh, he began to read it off. "Last one. The Imperials were keeping some horses in the stable here, and it was damaged in the explosion. Most of the horses are fine, but three of them were hurt pretty bad." Instantly he felt the heat rise into the back of his neck. Awkwardly, he began rubbing it. "They're going to need to be put down. I know this isn't a pleasant job, so I'll draw lots. Whoever gets the duty can assign someone from their unit to…"

"I'll do it."

Welkin turned his head towards the voice. Marina's one eye was uncharacteristically unfocused as she spoke. "I… I'll take care of it."

"Thank you." It had been the first time she'd volunteered for anything since becoming a corporal. Welkin wasn't sure why she'd done it, but he was grateful. "That takes care of everything for now. I'll let you know when we're meeting up with the Army divisions. Until then, you're dismissed."

With a salute, the officers left the room. Immediately, Isara went to work on the Eidelweiss. The tank had survived the drop into the ocean, but the impact had shaken it up pretty bad. Picking up her wrench, she began to unbolt the engine covering. She almost didn't hear Rosie coming up behind her. "Isara."

"Hi Rosie," Isara said as she put down her wrench and turned towards the other woman. "How can I help you?"

"Well, you have already…"

* * *

"You ever been to Rodez Alex?"

"Once. I was pretty young though." Alex Raymond looked out of the window of the small room. He was sitting with Oscar and Emile in a small bunker just outside of the captured base. Together, the three of them watched for an Imperial counter attack. "I really don't remember much of it. You?"

"No." Oscar set his rifle down. "Guess we'll all be seeing it soon though."

"Yeah. Seems so," Alex replied. "Just wish we didn't have to fight our way there."

"Don't think we'll have much a choice about…"

"Hey." Emile cut his brother off mid sentence. "Did you guys hear that?"

"Hear what?" Oscar looked worried. "I didn't hear anything."

Emile peered out the window. "Sounded like a gunshot."

"What? No. Didn't hear it." Alex moved next to Emile, but he couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. "You sure?"

"Yeah, I heard it."

"Hey Alex, run down to the base and check it out." Oscar was still looking at his brother.

Alex glared at the other two. "Wait, why me?"

"Do you know how to shoot one of these rifles?" Oscar asked.

"Well, no, but…"

"Do you know how to work as a spotter?"

"No, but…"

"Then get down to that base and check it out. We'll cover things here."

Grudgingly, Alex began his trek to the base. Oscar and Emile sat in silence for a whole minute before Oscar spoke again. "Hey Emile… You're not getting headaches, are you?"

Emile continued staring out the window. "I heard a gunshot. I know what it was."

"Yeah. Yeah, I believe you," Oscar said as he sat back in his chair. "I just… You're not getting sick again or anything, right?"

"No," Emile replied flatly.

"Ok, and you're not… Blacking out or anything, right?"

"Oscar, I said I'm feeling better." Emile walked back to his chair, but he wouldn't make eye contact with his brother. "You don't have to worry about me. I'm fine."

"Yeah." Oscar was still worried, but there was nothing more he could say. "I believe you." Six more minutes of silence passed before Alex returned. Turning to the door, Oscar waved him in. "What's going on?"

"Watch out for snipers," he replied. After a moment's pause, he added "Isara's dead."

* * *

Next Engagement: Marching


	7. Marching

**Engagement 7: Marching**

They were already behind schedule, and the rain wasn't helping. Three days had passed since Isara's death, and Squad 7 was just setting out. Without a tank pilot to drive the Eidelweiss, the Militia had to wait until a replacement could be found. Eventually, a soldier from the Army's 6th tank division was loaned out to Squad 7 until they could return to Randgriz and find a full time replacement. He turned out to be likable enough, but he wasn't Militia, and he certainly wasn't Isara.

Since his sister's death, Welkin had been in a pretty foul mood, which by extension meant Juno was in a foul mood herself. With her rifle slung over her shoulder, she trudged through the rain near the rear of the column. Squad 7 was on its way to meet the Army divisions it would be taking Rodez with, but the weather wasn't cooperating. In fact, it only served to personify everyone's low morale. Having lost Walter and Isara in the span of just a few hours was a punch to the gut, and the three day delay Isara's death caused poured salt in the open wound. Still, Squad 7 had to continue on, and Juno had to push forward as well.

Stepping over a puddle, she looked towards the head of the column. Just visible through the rain was the silhouette of the Eidelweiss. With its hatch open, the form of Squad 7's Lieutenant could be seen peeking out of the hatch. The rain didn't seem to bother him. In fact, it seemed he hardly noticed it. Juno wanted nothing more than to hitch a ride on the Eidelweiss and keep Welkin company, but she wasn't sure it would be appropriate. Having just lost his sister, she was sure he wanted to be alone. Mind drifting, Juno was taken back to her time with Welkin at their University. Going to class. Taking a camping trip with Faldio. Biology lab. Slipping on a muddy path and… _Wait, that wasn't…_

Before her mind was fully back on the march, her leg had slipped out from under her. Flailing, she began her fall. On her way down, a firm hand grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet. "I'm sorry," she said, regaining her footing. "Thank you, I don't know what happened there."

"No need for apology, sir," Wavy replied. "The road's pretty slippery with all this mud. Just make sure you watch your footing."

"I will." Juno hadn't noticed Wavy coming up behind her. She was grateful he was there to catch her, but she'd been on guard around him since their conversation in the landing craft. She didn't exactly want to continue their talk, but she could tell he was looking at her expectantly. "Is there something I can do for you, Wavy?" _Here it comes…_

"Actually, yes. I was hoping we could finish our conversation from before."

_Shoot. _"Oh, that…" There had to be a way out of it. "I was nervous, you know? What with the Eidelweiss out of commission and the guns on the beach. I wasn't sure what to do." Juno tried to smile to put the cap on her charade. The dissonance between how she felt and how she wanted to appear created a half smile half grimace that might have given Aisha nightmares. It certainly didn't fool Wavy.

"Sir, I've been teaching high school for ten years," he said with an air of reproach perfected over a career of disciplining slackers trying to pass off not doing homework. "I know that look when I see it."

With that, her façade fell apart. There was no way out of this one. "That obvious, huh?

"Only to a trained eye, sir."

Juno removed her glasses. "We can drop the formalities just this once, Wavy. I've never really liked that whole 'Sir' thing."

"Alright, ma'am," he replied.

Juno gave a harsh laugh. "No ma'am either. I'm not that old."

"Very well." Even without the sirs or ma'ams, the man managed to ooze formality. "Still, I believe there was something regarding the Lieutenant you were going to tell me about?"

With that the floodgates broke. She told him everything. Juno had met Welkin on the first day of their second semester. It had been Biology Lab. They were partners. She needed the class for her biology major, and he needed it for zoology. Within a month, she was madly in love with him. Of course, Welkin being Welkin, he was oblivious. Over the course of the class, they'd stricken up a pretty strong friendship and, since their majors saw a good amount of overlap, scheduled their classes together. She'd even written him a letter confessing her feelings for him, but she'd never delivered it.

"We were just about to graduate when the war started. I was going to tell him everything when we graduated, but with the war, it may be a while, and I don't think telling him now would be a good idea."

Wavy took a moment to digest everything he'd just heard. Welkin's figure was still visible on top of the Eidelweiss. "Well, Juno," he finally started, "do you _ever _plan on telling him?"

She was awestruck. "What? Of course. I just… Well… I wanted to…"

"If you keep setting a time to do it, you're just going to keep putting it off for a more convenient time." Even in his uniform he looked like a teacher, and he even sounded like he was giving a lecture. "You're right. Now probably isn't the best time, but if you don't tell him someday soon, someone else will." Alicia. How much could Wavy tell just through observation? Guiding Juno around another puddle, he continued. "That said, this is a war. You should be prepared for anything. There won't always be water proof armor on that tank of his. If something should happen, you need to be able to keep a clear head and lead."

He was right. Anyone could die at any time. Isara's death drove that point home for everyone. "Yes, I know. I lost my head on that beach. I'll be… ready next time."

"If there's a next time," he said with a smile. "Don't go losing _all _hope on me now."

Juno couldn't help but smile herself. "No. I won't."

"Glad to hear it." Wavy could still see Welkin's solitary figure through the rain. "Now, I don't know about you, but I think if my sister just died, I'd want a friend or two around to keep me company."

Juno looked up to the head of the column. "You think so?"

"Yes. I do."

Picking up her pace, the woman left Wavy's side. "All right. I'll see what I can do. Thank you, Wavy."

"No thank you necessary, Juno."

After several more paces, she turned back around. "By the way, you'll have to tell me about that ring of yours sometime."

Wavy brought his right hand to his wedding band. "No," he said smiling wistfully. "I don't think so."

Juno didn't argue. With a nod, she turned back around and began her jaunt to the Eidelweiss. Maybe the rain wouldn't seem so dreary with some company.

* * *

Despite the conditions, Ted and Melville marched in relatively high spirits. The recent losses still wore on them, and the rain was just as miserable for them as it was for everyone else, but Ted's new run of jokes kept their morale slightly higher than most of the squads'. Halfway through his fifth joke, he was interrupted by a familiar voice.

"Hey! Teddy!" The two turned to see Cherry running up behind them. She didn't seem to be coping well in the rain. Her usually done up hair was let down, and any makeup she'd put on earlier had run away a long while back. "What's going on?"

Ted and Cherry got along well. The girl loved his jokes, and she made for a good audience. It was a win/win relationship. "Not a whole lot. Just testing out some new material. Wanna' hear it?"

"Can't now Teddy," she said with a disappointed look. "Ramona is waiting for me up front. I'm actually here for business."

"Oh, really?" Ted tried to hide his surprise. As much as he loved Cherry, she wasn't very business minded. "What can I do for you?"

Cherry looked around to make sure nobody else was listening in. Satisfied, she dropped her voice and got down to her point. "Are you still offering payment for information?"

Ted double checked to make sure they were alone. "Depends. If it's something I can use, I'll pay you outright. If it leads to laughs later, I'll triple it. It has to be reliable though."

"Totally reliable."

"Alright. What do you have for me?" Ted hadn't been this excited all day. Finally his work was paying off. Ever since he'd joined Squad 7 he'd gotten every member to laugh at least once. Everyone except for Marina Wulfstan. After hundreds of failed attempts, he sent a message out through the squad. Anyone who could supply information he could use on her would be paid with rations. Unfortunately, information on the woman was extremely hard to come by, and as of yet, nobody could come up with anything. Ted hoped Cherry could change that.

"A reliable source told me that she volunteered herself for a duty the other day. Like, supposedly she's never done that and it was totally out of nowhere."

"A reliable source? Who?"

Cherry balked. "Doesn't matter. But I guarantee it's good stuff."

After a moment of thought, Ted decided he'd hear her out. Besides, he was pretty sure where the information had come from anyway. "Fine. What was the job?"

"So, like, it's nasty. She totally volunteered to kill the horses that were hurt back at the base we took."

"Wait, she volunteered? To kill horses?"

"That's what I said." Cherry clearly expected compensation for her information. She was starting to get short.

"So what's that mean, she likes killing animals? That's just fucked up. How am I supposed to make a joke out of that?" This would be tougher than he thought. He had some dirty jokes, but nothing about killing animals.

Cherry wiped a loose strand of hair out of her face. "That's totally not my problem. You wanted info on a psycho bitch, so don't back out because you think what I gave you was 'fucked up'." After emphasizing the last two syllables and shooting Ted a piercing glare, he gave in. Pulling his pack off his back, he began to rummage through its contents.

"You want the chocolate, right?" Ted was a little reluctant to part with it, but a deal was a deal.

"No, keep the chocolate. I'll take the cigarettes."

Ted was surprised. He was sure she'd go for the chocolate, and he'd never seen her smoking. "Really? Since when did you smoke?"

Cherry slowly smiled. "I don't, but I can buy more chocolate with those than I could ever get from you." He had to hand it to her. She was far from the smartest person in the squad, and she certainly wasn't one for planning ahead, but she could be resourceful when there was something in it for her.

"Fair enough," Ted said relieved. "I'd rather keep my chocolate anyway." Pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his bag, he handed them over to the scout. "Thanks. I'll see what I can do with what you've given me."

"Good luck." With a wave, Cherry started making her way back to Ramona's position. As she walked, she put her recently acquired pack of cigarettes in her back pocket. Taking his mind off the girl, Ted began to wonder what he could do with what she'd told him.

"Mel, you got any ideas?" he asked bewildered. "I mean, I've got some pretty raunchy jokes, but killing animals is a completely new level for me."

Melville looked his friend up and down. "Having second thoughts?"

"No." Ted was determined. "I swore an oath. I'll make everyone laugh. That's what I said." Ted looked up to the storm clouds above him. His figure cut a striking pose. "If I have to dirty myself to do it, then dammit, that's what I'll do!"

"Destroy your innocence in the name of comedy, eh? I'll admit, that's commitment."

Ted leveled his gaze. Through the rain, it was hard to tell who was who at a distance. His target could have been anyone ahead of them. "Sacrifice, Mel. That's what it takes to be great. Besides, I figure she's like that one song about the woman who cried an ocean and drown everyone, but when she smiled it was totally kick ass."

It was clear Melville wasn't following him. With a befuddled look on his face, he began to question his friend's sanity. "What song? There's never been a song like that, Ted."

"Yeah. I'm telling you, I've heard it somewhere. That's Marina."

"No. I'm pretty sure there's never been anything like that." Mel was really starting to think his friend's quest was starting to eat at his sanity. If he didn't succeed soon, he might have to call Fina in for an intervention.

"Really, I'm telling you. Aika was definitely singing it back in boot."

That was the last straw. "Great, now the wacky foreigners are filling your head with fantasies." Melville didn't really have a problem with Vyse or Aika, but some of the things he'd heard put him off a bit. "Have you heard the bullshit they're feeding Alex? All this crap about flying ships through the sky and being pirates and stuff?"

"Oh, come on Mel," Ted scoffed. "You know they're just having a good time. It's all in fun."

"No, they're serious, and they've got Alex convinced. Poor kid is eating out of their hands." A lightning strike above temporarily diverted their attention. The flash of light temporarily lit the convoy, and for a second the scenery around was completely visible. "And now the storm is picking up. Wonderful."

Ted dropped his head. "You want me to just finish my joke?"

"Yeah." Mel tried to regain his composure. "That would be nice."

Cracking his knuckles, Ted continued from where he left off. "Alright, this old lady's husband dies, so she goes to the pet shop and gets this parrot to keep her company, right? So this parrot…"

"Hold it Ted."

"Hm?" Ted looked ahead. Everyone had stopped. "What's going on?"

"Don't know." The two could see someone from the front running back towards the rear of the column. As he approached, they could see it was Coby. When he was within earshot, Melville waved him down. "What's going on?"

The old man stopped. It seemed he would have used any excuse for a quick breather, and the duo had come around just in time. "A civilian stopped us on the road up ahead," he said as he caught his breath. "Apparently there are some Imps holed up in a small town about a klick down the road. Keep moving and regroup with your squads."

"Yes, sir." Before they'd finished, Coby was on the move again. Without watching him go, Ted and Melville began moving forward towards the rest of their squad.

"Think the rain will give us some cover?" Ted asked nervously.

"It's got to be good for something." It didn't seem the storm was going to let up anytime soon. "You'll have to finish that joke later on, though. You can't seem to get past the part with the granny and the parrot."

"Granny… Parrot… Think there's any way to make a joke about the parrot dying out of this one?"

Mel laughed. "That's just sick, dude."

"Yeah," Ted agreed. "Yeah, it really is." He'd have to think it over later. Right now, he had to focus on business.

Next Engagement: Hamlet


	8. Hamlet

**Engagement 8: Hamlet**

Staring down the sights of her Mags, Wendy advanced on the two pinpoints of light that emanated from the inside of a small building. The sun – or what little light it had provided through the storm – had set 20 minutes before, and the light from the small hamlet's buildings was all there they had to guide the assault team's movement. Just ahead, Sergeant Caird led the advance. Walking slowly, he kept his weapon trained on the house ahead while he scanned the area for patrols. The civilian had said that there were anywhere from 20 to 30 imperials in the small village, and he wasn't going to risk losing the initiative.

Raising his fist to signal a stop, Coby dropped to his knee. After a moment of peering through the darkness, he ordered his soldiers to move behind a line of small bushes. It was a tight fit. As lightning flashed above them, he could see everyone who comprised the assault team. Rosie's 2nd section and Ramona's 4th section were crouched next to him, and Wavy and Marina's units comprised the security teams surrounding the hamlet. As quickly as the light came, the Militiamen were thrust back into near complete darkness. The sudden changes in visibility created a difficult situation for the advancing unit. If lightning struck as a patrol passed, they would be caught with little to no cover in the clearing ahead. Unfortunately, the probably of a patrol was no longer in question. Coby had seen two imperials as they crossed past one of the windows of a house. They would have to be taken out before the Militia could advance.

"Wyatt, radio," he whispered. The sound of his voice was barely audible over the noise of the rain. Nevertheless, Dallas took a knee next to Coby. Picking the handset off of her large radio pack, he brought it to his ear. "O'Hara, this is Caird – Two man patrol passing the northern building. Do you see them? Over."

From her spot in the tree line behind the advancing unit, Catherine had seen the two Imperials in the previous lightning strike. Her job was to provide sniper support for the advance, but the conditions weren't very conducive to the task. "This is O'Hara – I see them. It is very dark though. Following them through my scope but they fade out now and again, over."

Taking the handset from his head, Coby peeked around the bushes. Ahead of him he could barely see the silhouettes of the two men. In about a minute they would be passing in front of them. Ducking back into cover, he brought the handset up again. "From Caird – We need to take them out, but keep it quiet. Aim for the one in the back when they pass us. We'll take the one up front when he's down. Acknowledge, over."

"From O'Hara. Roger. Take him out quietly. WILCO. Out."

Dropping the handset back into its cradle, Coby quickly devised a plan. The patrol would be passing in about 30 seconds. If O'Hara's shot hit its mark, that would still leave one Imperial for them to deal with. He would have to be taken down quickly and quietly. It would be messy, but there was only one solid option. "Corporal Linton, once the first Imp is down, you should be clear to sneak up and take the second." With the darkness to obscure visibility and the disorienting patter of the rain to conceal footsteps – especially with her relatively light frame – Coby figured she would be able to bring the enemy down from behind. "Their armor is thick enough to slow a knife, but there's a gap between the helmet and the chest plate. We'll be right behind you once he's taken out."

Through the rain he couldn't see Ramona's cringe. She had the feeling this was going to be a lot worse than a little dirt. Regardless, the guard had to be taken out. "Ok, I'm on top of it," she said as she drew her knife from her chest rig.

At the edge of the forest, Catherine prepared to make her shot. Under the conditions required she would only have one chance, and would have to time it with a lightning strike to hide the report. Fortunately, at 400 meters the target would be right at her GSR's zero. She was barely able to make out her target's head, but with some effort she placed her cross hairs directly over his helmet. Normally a shot to the target's center would have been preferred, but she had to guarantee he would go down in one hit. Steadying her breath, she waited for a lightning strike. The target was already passing the assault team's position. If she waited too long, they wouldn't have a good shot at the second Imp. With sweat and rain rolling down her forehead, she began putting pressure on her trigger and waited.

Ramona had just stuck her head out when the lightning struck. The thunder clap was immediate. Seemingly out of nowhere the second Imperial's helmet exploded. In the flash of light she could see the fragments from the bullet's exit flying through the air. Before his body hit the ground, she was on her feet. In a half crouch half run, she came up behind the second patrolman unnoticed.

With her left arm, Ramona covered the Imperial's visor and pulled back. With her other, she brought her knife in front of his throat. "The fu…" Anything else he was about to say was lost as she drove the weapon into his neck. The cool rain on her arm was instantly accompanied by a much warmer liquid. Flailing his arms, the Imperial swung his hands up to his neck. He only managed to push the knife in further. Unable to scream, the Imperial couldn't alert any of his squad mates. He wasn't silent, however. Instead of a scream, he let out a low gurgle that was somehow worse than any scream Ramona had ever heard before. With her leg, she kicked in the back of his knee and brought him down to a kneel. The gurgling stopped, and his arms went limp.

Still holding the limp body, Ramona removed the knife from the man's throat. His head lolled, and a stream of blood ran its way down the front of his chest plate. Over the storm she could hear a dull thud as she let the body drop. _That one's... going to stick around for a while._ Behind her, the rest of the assault team advanced on the houses. The blood on her arm was slick, but it began to run off in the rain. The blood on her sleeve didn't. As the rest of the team passed her, she took a moment to clear her head. Swallowing dinner for the second time, she swung her rifle from off of her shoulder and moved to catch up with the rest of the unit.

Sergeant Caird stopped the group when they reached the buildings. Approaching from the west, there were two buildings side by side where they'd entered. They were in close proximity, so anyone in one might be able to see into the next. Once more he dropped to his knee. "Rosie, take your unit and capture the building on the left. I'll go in with the youngin' here on the right." The buildings both had back doors. It would make for easy coordination between the two groups' timing. "If you can take the building without firing, all the better." Defending a position was always easier than attacking, and even with superior numbers Squad 7 would be at a disadvantage if they lost the initiative too soon. After issuing his orders to Rosie, he addressed the rest of the unit. "Make sure you check your targets. There are civilians in the area. Visibility is pretty low, so if you're not sure, don't go firing."

With a wave, he sent Rosie and her troops off to storm their house. Simultaneously, Ramona ordered her shock troopers to stack up at their building's doorway. While trying to stay quiet and keeping civilian casualties to a minimum, grenades were out, so they would have to breech the building unaided. Testing the handle, Wendy found it resisted. "It's locked." Normally they would have shot out the lock with Audrey's shotgun or – as Wendy preferred – used a charge to blow the door down, but that was out of the question. It was times like this that she wished Militia Squads carried battering rams like the Royal Guard divisions. She wasn't too flustered though. There was always a less precise way to get the job done.

Falling in behind Dorothy, Coby gave her a pat on the shoulder. Dorothy extended the gesture to Wendy. Wendy extended it to the door – with her foot. The frame gave, and the door splintered. The entryway was empty. "Clear!" Without wasting time, the three shock troopers swept through the room and moved into the next. It was a living room, and the four imperials in it were caught completely by surprise. None of them were wearing full combat armor, and only one of them had managed to reach his weapon in the time it took for the shock troopers to move in since kicking the door down. Dorothy was on him in an instant.

"Drop the weapon!" She yelled as she moved in on him. "Drop it and get down!"

Coby had the other three covered. Two of them had been playing cards with the first, and the third had been cleaning his weapon. It was still stripped on the table. "Down on the ground! Militia! Down!"

They didn't fight back. The Imperial with the weapon placed it on the floor and went down on his stomach. His comrades followed. The living room comprised most of the first floor. At the far end was a stairwell leading to the second. Wendy had it covered. As the rest of the group came in behind the shock troopers, they moved on to clear the upstairs. Meanwhile, the rest of the group had prisoners to deal with.

Ramona looked them over. Without their uniforms, they might have fit in well with a Militia Squad. Two of them were in their late teens, and looked like they could have been related. One of them was a woman in her early 20's, and the last was a man in his mid 20's with glasses. Ordering them off the ground, Ramona sat them down against the back wall. "Which one of you is in charge?"

Nobody answered. It didn't seem like they were going to cooperate. "Nobody?" she asked again with a puzzled look. "You," she said, pointing to the man with the glasses. "Stand up." He complied. "How many Imperials are stationed here?"

"Obergefeiter Paul Bäumer, 091511-B-45568."

At least she now knew who he was. "Alright, Paul. Thanks for the introduction. Now, will you answer my question?"

"Obergefeiter Paul Bäumer, 091511-B-45568."

That answered that. "Fine, Paulie. Sit back down." Even if she hated the Imperials as her enemies, Ramona had to respect their discipline, and enemy or no, he had some pretty stylish glasses. As Paul sat back next to his squad mates, the trio of shock troopers returned down the stairs accompanied by a man and a woman in civilian clothing. Maybe they could get the information out of them.

Coby sat the two down at the table the Imperials had previously occupied. Their cards were still laid out on the table, but the civilians ignored them. The old man looked them over. A man and a woman; looked about 45. This was probably their house. "I apologize for the screaming," he said in as friendly a voice as he could muster, "but as I said before, we're the Gallian Militia. Any information you have would be of great help."

The man grabbed onto his wife's hand. "Anything I can tell you, I will." His wife gave a slight nod. She was probably in shock.

"Can you tell us how many Imperials are stationed here?"

"Not exactly," the man replied shaking his head, "but I can tell you there are no more than 24. It's only a squad or two. Probably two." Coby did the math. Two killed outside. Four prisoners here. He hadn't heard any gunfire from next door, but the building could have been empty. That meant at most there were still 18 enemies within the tiny hamlet. Not a comforting thought.

"Are there any positions that you know of? Maybe a machine gun nest or a sniper roost?"

The man thought for a moment. "They had a sniper in the bell tower earlier this morning. That's two buildings east of here, or straight out from the front door. He'll have most of the village covered if he's still up there."

Even though the weather was terrible, a sniper covering the town was bad news. "How many civilians are there in…" Coby was interrupted when an explosion went off next door. Even in the other house, he could feel the foundation shake. Immediately the sound was followed by gunfire. "Cheslock, Stijnen! Get upstairs and set up the .30. Cover as much of the town as you can." The Imperials had no doubt heard the blast as well, and would soon be coming around to check it out. "Nadine! Radio!"

Obediently, Nadine moved next to the Sergeant. Picking up the handset, Coby turned to the Squad's frequency. "Rosie, this is Caird – Give me a SITREP. Over."

For a long moment, there was nothing but static. Finally, Rosie's voice cut through. "Caird, this is Rosie – We've got two prisoners. A third tried to play hero and threw a grenade in from upstairs. We tossed it into a spare room and took him out. No casualties. Over."

"From Caird – Hold your position. Out to you." Three more down. That brought the highest possible total for opposing forces down to 15. However, the assault team had lost the initiative, and 15 defenders wasn't a force to be taken lightly by the 22 man unit. To make matters even more difficult, the Shamrock and the Eidelweiss would be ineffective due to the risk of civilian casualties, and calling in one of the security teams for reinforcements increased the chances of the Imperials successfully fleeing the hamlet and regrouping. With a grimace, he tuned the radio back to the security team's frequency. "O'Hara, this is Caird – Can you see anything out there? Over."

Catherine looked through her binoculars. Through the storm she couldn't see any movement, but she could make out the shape of the buildings on the western edge of the hamlet. Dropping her binoculars, she brought her handset to her ear. "Caird, this is O'Hara – Your building is at the southern end of town. There is one building north of Rosie's. Have them move north. Move Linton east. If you can, put Cezray in the bell tower. Over."

That seemed like a good plan. Once successful, it would leave only the north eastern section of the hamlet under Imperial control, and the two sections could flank it. "From Caird – Roger. Out to you." Once more he changed the frequency back to the Squad's. "Rosie, this is Caird- Move your section north then work your way east. Acknowledge. Over."

"Caird, this is Rosie – Moving north then heading east. Out."

With the plan set, Coby turned to the section with him. With the .30 set up upstairs, they should have enough covering fire to make it across the street into the next building. That would put them next to the bell tower. First though, he had to set up a firing position here. "Kill the lights. I don't want them able to see in through the windows." Once the lights were out, it was nearly impossible to see inside the building from outside. It was also a lot easier to see out. With a wave, Coby positioned the rest of the group near the front of the house. From their position, they could see the building directly in front of them and look left down the road through the hamlet. To their north east was an open green. Just before it, the road forked off to the east, creating a T intersection. Coby decided it would be best to stay out of the open.

Before he could order his troops to advance, the lights in the house across the street went out. In fact, most of the hamlet was now dark. "Keep an eye on those windows. Make sure your target is an Imp before firing."

Upstairs, Wendy set up the section's .30 caliber machine gun in an open window. With a wave of her hands, she opened the top cover and lifted the extractor. Next to her, Cherry inserted a full belt of ammunition into the feed trey. Inverting her steps, Wendy closed the top cover and pulled back the cocking handle. It made a satisfying clicking sound as she slid it back. "Good to go, Cherry," she said as she aimed the barrel out of the frame. "Lemme' know if you see anything."

"I'm sooo on it." Cherry squinted her eyes to get a better view of the hamlet. Now that everything was dark, it was harder to see around the houses, but the light pollution was gone, so her eyes started to adjust. Within a few seconds, she saw movement. Straining her eyes to get a better view, Cherry noticed two more Imperials moving down the T intersection. "Spotted an enemy!" she exclaimed, pointing out the two targets. "Right in front of the green."

If they hadn't been moving, Wendy wouldn't have been able to pick them out. Swinging the .30 in their direction, she brought the lead target into her sight picture. "Hehehe," she laughed to herself. Cherry gave her a troubled look. "I have the power." With that, she squeezed the trigger. The weapon jumped in response, but the window frame was enough to limit the recoil. As the weapon barked, Cherry fed the ammunition belt through the feeding trey. Through her sights, Wendy watched the bullets impact. One in every five rounds was a tracer, and she could see the first two make contact around her target. Firing in bursts, she moved to the second. Thankfully, the rain would help keep the barrel from overheating. With the second Imperial in her sights, she let off another burst. Once again, the machine gun jumped in the window frame. As her eyes readjusted to the dark after the muzzle flashes dissipated she could see the two targets were down. Before she could turn the weapon back on the other building the window frame above her splintered and burst into fragments. The flash of the weapon had given away their position. Ducking below the window for cover, Wendy and Cherry waited for the incoming fire to stop. Before it settled down, the Imperials had shattered the windows and torn the opposite wall to shreds.

Below them, the rest of the unit began to open up on the attackers. The fire had come from the first floor of the building across the street. As the Militia soldiers fired, the incoming return fire became more and more sporadic. When it had settled enough to peek out of cover, Wendy lifted the weapon back into the window frame and opened fire on the left window of the building's first floor. The bullets tore through the house and sent debris flying through the air around the frame. Still firing, she felt Cherry's hand pat her right shoulder. She'd seen a target to the right. The roar of the weapon created difficulties in verbal communication, so pats were the most effective way to direct fire. Swinging the gun to the right, Wendy lit up the second window. She couldn't see anyone in the frame, but fire had been coming from it just moments before. Once more, Wendy felt Cherry's pat – This time at the back of her head. Shifting her fire to the second floor, she sent another burst at the third window. She saw someone this time. With her second burst, the Imperial's pauldron flew off his body and into the room behind him. The other rounds impacted the man just below the sternum. As he fell out of sight, Wendy stopped her fire. "Grab another belt," she commanded. Cherry pulled another ammunition belt out of the ammunition box and the two began to reload the weapon.

Below them, Coby prepared to move on the next building. "Cheslock!" he yelled up the stairway. "We're crossing the street! Check your fire!"

Wendy yelled back in response. "Yeah!"

"Claudia, stay back and watch the prisoners," Coby said as he opened the front door and stepped out into the rain. The incoming fire from the house across the street had stopped, but the firefight between Rosie's section and the surrounding buildings was still going strong. Behind Coby, the rest of the group filed out into the night. Once again they stacked up at the door of the house, and once again they found it was locked. This time, though, they didn't have to worry about noise. Stepping forward, Audrey aimed her shotgun and squeezed off a shell. The resulting force blew out the lock and cracked the door open. Moving through the doorway, the shock troopers began clearing the first floor. With his weapon raised, Coby entered the home's kitchen. The Imperial scout in the room didn't have a chance to raise his rifle. Before the weapon had crossed his waist, Coby let off a burst of rounds. Three circular holes appeared in the scout's armor, and a spraying mist of blood showered the countertops behind him. "First floor is clear!" Coby yelled.

Dorothy returned from the other side of the house. "Clear here, m-moving upstairs."

The two shock troopers swept the upper floor room by room. Finally, they made it to the room on the left face of the house. Rushing through the door, they found the body of an Imperial soldier. Wendy's .30 cal had torn him open. Stepping over shattered glass and a pool of the soldier's blood, Coby yelled back across the street to the machine gun crew. "Cheslock! We're clear!" Through the window he could see Wendy and Cherry manning the gun. The barrel was still trained on the house. "Try and get some cover on Rosie's unit!"

"We're on it!" Across the green, Wendy could see the muzzle flashes and tracers of the Imperial weapons firing on Rosie's position. Taking aim, she opened fire. Rosie's section was having a slower time. From their position, they were taking fire from two buildings. If they tried to move north from the house they had taken, the Imps would have a clear shot at them.

"Keep firing on those buildings," Rosie ordered while she swept a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "We need to cut down their fire."

From his spot in the entryway, Alex had a clear view across the green. Fire was coming in heavy from the building straight across from them. Unfortunately, he couldn't see any individual targets. Without being picky about where he was aiming, he finished off his magazine. As he pulled another one out of his chest rig, he saw movement. Hurrying, he slammed the mag into his weapon's magazine well and took aim. Staring down the sights, he could see an Imperial soldier running across the green. He was completely exposed. Without thinking twice, Alex pulled his trigger and the weapon jumped in his hands. Through a flash of lightning, he could see a puff of red as the Imperial went down. A fraction of a second later, he watched in horror as he saw the second patch of red at the Imperial's shoulder.

"Shit!" he cried out.

Next to him, Rosie ducked down out of her window frame. Sliding the magazine out of her Mags, she began to reload. "What's the matter, Bird?" she asked as she pulled the bolt back on her weapon. "You hit?"

Alex stared out his window. He wasn't completely sure about what he'd seen, but if he was right, he could have created a sticky situation. "I think I just shot a medic."

Rosie peeked out of her window. Alex pointed out the target he'd just dropped. She couldn't tell in the darkness. "Well what the Hell was he doing running out in the open?"

From across the room, Jane laughed. "The dumb types make easy targets."

Alex followed the path the man had been running. "Looks like he was headed for the two guys our machine gun dropped."

Grumbling, Rosie called for the radio. Dallas was crouched next to her within seconds. For some reason or another, the girl never strayed too far from the women of the Squad. It was a slight annoyance at times, but Rosie appreciated it at times like this. Women did have to stick together, after all. Turning the frequency to the security team, Rosie picked up the handset. "O'Hara, this is Rosie – We might have a situation with the ROE here, over."

There was a slight pause before she heard Catherine's response. "This is O'Hara – You're coming in loud but unreadable. Speak slower and say again, over."

Rosie was well known for staying calm in a firefight. The only hint that gave her away when under stress was the fact that she tended to talk faster. Calming herself down, she brought the tempo of her voice down a few notches. "This is Rosie – I say again: We think we've shot a medic. Is Fina on standby? Over."

"From O'Hara – Yes, she's here. Mina should be with Sergeant Caird though; can she take care of it? Over."

Mina had come with the assault team to provide combat medical support. She was a competent medic and could get the job done under fire, but once the fighting stopped the excess adrenaline in her system gave her tremors. "From Rosie – She's here, but she tends to get the shakes after action. Keep Fina on standby. Out."

Setting the handset down, she peeked out the window again. "Can you tell if he's still alive?"

Through the darkness, Alex could see the Imperial rolling slightly on the green. He looked like he was in pain, but he wasn't dead. "Yeah. He's still alive."

Jane raised her weapon. "Then why'd you stop firing?"

Rosie was on her in a flash. Pushing the barrel of Jane's gun to the floor, she looked the woman square in the eyes. "Cease fire, Turner! ROE says we don't shoot medics, so we're not going to shoot medics, Imperial or not!"

Reluctantly, Jane lowered her weapon. "Fine. Damn Imps…"

Rosie wasn't completely satisfied, but that would have to do, and the medic would have to wait until the hamlet was secure. Outside, she could see the tracers flying from Wendy's position. The suppression the .30 provided gave Rosie's section enough leeway to advance. "Alright kiddo's, on me. We're heading north. Aika, stay here and keep an eye on those prisoners. If one of them even moves, plug em'." Aika nodded in response. "Everyone else, let's go."

The unit stepped out of the house. While the incoming fire had died down, it hadn't disappeared. While they ran between the houses, rounds snapped past them. Vyse was the first person to reach the building. Barely stopping, he brought his foot to the door and the Militiamen filed in. The building was comprised of one room – almost like a town hall – and it was full of civilians. Quickly, Vyse took a head count. "Eight civilians, sir! No Imps."

Rosie was relieved that there were no Imperials in the building, but the civilian presence created another problem. They would have to ensure that none of them were hit in the crossfire. Stepping forward, she waved the civilians to the far corner of the room. "Everybody get on the floor and stay down. Don't get up for anything unless I tell you." Suddenly, a single round crashed through a window and whizzed past Rosie's head. Instinctively, she dropped to the floor and rolled behind a pew for cover. Through the shattered glass, she could see the bell tower clearly across the hamlet. Crawling behind her cover, she worked her way to Dallas's position. "Caird, this is Rosie – That sniper in the bell tower has us pinned. Can you take care of him? Over."

After a few seconds, Nadine's voice sounded over the radio. "Rosie this is Caird's assault team – We're on him. Out."

Next door to the bell tower, Ramona's section engaged the Imperials across the green. Moving towards the back of the house, Ramona nudged Hermes. "Kissinger, can you see the bell tower from here?"

With its imposing figure, it was impossible to miss. "You might have better night vision than I do, but I'm not blind, you know."

Ramona ignored his lip. "Can you hit it with a rifle grenade?" While she didn't want to create a lot of collateral damage to the hamlet, a rifle grenade was the only way to ensure the sniper was killed.

"Come on, Ramona," he said with his trademarked wink, "I'm the best grenadier in your unit."

"You're my only grenadier, dumbass."

"Ah," Hermes sighed. "Ramona said I'm her one and only. I can die happy."

She tried to hide it, but Ramona couldn't help but laugh. "I'd prefer you didn't," she relented. Turning away, Hermes aimed the grenade. It shot off his rifle in an arc, and landed directly within the tower. Exploding on impact, the grenade sent shrapnel in every direction, creating a kill zone in the confined area of the tower. "Tower is down!" Ramona cried after watching Hermes' shot. "Clear it!"

The shock troopers moved on ahead and began their sweep of the building. Nadine and Audrey followed behind them, but Karl froze at the door. Behind him, Cezary grew impatient. "Hey. What's the hold up?"

Karl wouldn't move. From across the green, he could see the tracers from the Imperial weapons fly between the two buildings. "They're still shooting."

"You've got to be…" Cezary was all for looking out for his own hide, but he knew the only way he was going to survive was by doing his job. If anything kept him from doing his job – and thereby decreased his chances of survival – he took it personally. "Suck it up and get through that doorway," he growled. "I bet that darkie of yours wouldn't hesitate."

Karl turned on his heels and screamed. "What the Hell did you just say?" Before, Karl and Cezary had kept an unspoken truce. Cezary's use of the term "darkie" changed that in an instant.

"I said your fiancé's a darkie and she's got a monopoly on the testosterone in your relationship," he replied coolly.

Forgetting all about the firefight, Karl grabbed Cezary's chest rig and pulled him in close. Inches away from one another, Karl stared the other man down. "You son of a bitch! You stupid son of a bitch, I'll have you…"

"What the Hell is going on here!" Ramona walked into the room and glared at the two men. "I could have done my hair and makeup three times over in the time it's taken you to get over to that next house, and I take a lot of pride in how long I spend doing it!" As she walked closer, Karl let go of Cezary's rig. The two still hadn't taken their eyes off of each other. "If you two have a problem, sort out your personal crap later. Karl, get your ass through that door. Now!"

Finally, Karl stepped back. "We'll talk later."

"Whatever you say. Sir." The distain in his last word was unmistakable. Filled with rage, Karl ignored the incoming fire and ran out of the house. Cezary had called Lynn a darkie. He wouldn't forgive him for that.

Within moments, the rest of the unit had made it to the building. Coby was just getting off of the radio with Rosie's section. Turning his head to the door, he set the handset down and sent Nadine off. "Building's clear," he said once everyone had piled in. "What took you guys so long? I'm 65 and I could have cleared this place twice."

"Equipment issue, sir," Ramona lied with the straight face she'd perfected on her father. "Always have to look good for Ian Imperial, am I right?" She added a smile to get the full effect.

Coby rolled his eyes. He'd never understood the girl's obsession with looks, but faulty equipment posed technical problems as well. "As long as everything's working the way it should." After moving everyone into the house, he ordered them into a firing position. The building was soon filled with the sound of gunfire, and empty casings littered the floor. "Cezary," he said, turning towards the sniper. "Get in the tower and finish off those Imps."

Cezary began his way up the tower. "An order's an order." When he reached the top, he could see the damage the grenade had done. The bell was destroyed, and would probably never ring the same way again, if at all. The enemy sniper's death had been quick, but messy. There were holes all up and down his armor from the shrapnel, and whatever life he'd had left after the blast had quickly bled out on the tower's floor. "Better you than me," Cezary said to the body as he stepped over it. Kneeling at the tower's edge, he supported his rifle on the stone siding. Looking down, he could see nearly the entire hamlet. "Way too high up for my tastes." Regardless, it was the only position he could effectively shoot from. Looking down his scope, he took aim at one of the muzzle flashes coming from a building across the hamlet. The tracers coming from the weapon were green. The Militia used red. Slowly, Cezary pulled the trigger, and his rifle cracked. It was a hit. Moving over to the next window, he re-steadied his breath. For the second time, his rifle cracked and his target went down.

Suddenly, the outgoing fire stopped. Though Rosie's group continued to fire on the building, the green tracers had stopped flying across the village. Within a minute, Cezary could see the shapes of the Imperials running out from behind the house away from the hamlet. Setting his rifle aside, he called down the stairs. "Sergeant Caird! They're retreating!" Picking up his binoculars, he watched as the Imperials fled. Out of the corner of his binoculars, he saw a new group of people. "New contacts to the north! There are a lot of them!"

Sergeant Caird's response was almost lost under the storm, but it was audible. "Who are they?"

Cezary looked through the binoculars at the new group. Though he couldn't make out any details, the snipers had been trained to identify vehicles by their silhouette. "It's Army," he said relieved. "They're friendly!"

Coby scanned the hamlet. "Linton, take some troops and make sure those buildings are clear. Bring any civilians you find back with you." Immediately, Ramona and the remaining troops in the building set off to finish clearing the area. With a groan, Coby sat down in one of the room's chairs. "Damn back…" he moaned to himself. "Still, no casualties... Goddamn miracle..."

Within minutes, Fina arrived at Rosies' position, and the woman guided her to the downed medic. He was shot in the hip, and the wound kept him from moving. "You Gallians are shooting medics, now, eh?" he jabbed as the two approached. "Guess I'm not surprised."

Rosie was furious. "How the Hell are we supposed to know you're a medic when you're running through the pitch dark? And in a storm! What were you trying to do? You can't help your buddies with a hole in your hip."

The Imperial glared at the woman. Medics in the Imperial military wore helmets with one eye exposed so they could see unobstructed, and his expression was clear as day. "I can't help them if I sit back and let them bleed out either. I'll take that risk if it's the only chance they've got." He flinched as Fina gave him a shot of Ragnaid. "How are they, anyway? Why aren't you working on them first?"

"They're dead," Fina replied matter of factly.

The Imperial slammed his fist on the ground. "I could have saved them, you know."

"Yeah," she answered. "I know." Removing his armor, the Gallian medic assessed his wound. The damage would probably be permanent. "Rosie, help me move him back into the buildings. I can't dress his wound in this rain."

Grabbing the Imperial under his arms, the women dragged the injured medic off of the green. Down the road, the Army troops were just coming into sight. After three long days of delays and marches, Squad 7 had made its rendezvous.

* * *

Next Engagement: The Road to Rodez


	9. The Road to Rodez

**Engagement 9: The Road to Rodez**

Although most of the windows had been shot out, it was much dryer in the house. Captain Varrot sat across a large dining room table from the Army Company's commanding officer. Sitting with his helmet off, he dug into his pack of Army rations while briefing the Militia Captain. His brown hair – cut short as per Army regulations – reminded Varrot that this was a joint operation, and that they would soon be working very closely with the Army regulars. "I'm sorry for the delays," she said as the officer in front of her continued to eat. "We ran into a couple transportation difficulties on the way."

The officer dropped his fork and raised his hand, almost as if to wave any apologies away. "And I'm sorry to be stuffing my face when we should be talking strategy." He was in good shape, and Varrot was surprised to see how quickly his food disappeared in front of him. She bet he could give General Damon a run for his money. "Haven't had much time to eat, though." He looked up for the first time since opening his MRE. "Ambushes all up and down the road on the way up, and you can't fight or plan on an empty stomach, right?"

Varrot smiled slightly. "I suppose even people need fuel every once in a while."

"Heh, Armored has their motto, we have our own." Within seconds, what was left of his food was gone. Satisfied, he sat back in his chair and rubbed his chin. "Now, you probably want to know what our course of action is, right?"

"That's right. Captain Patterson, was it?"

"Yep. Captain Patterson. Servant of the Gallian Army and commanding officer of Echo Company."

It was a long winded introduction, and the third time she'd heard it that night. For an Army officer, the man was surprisingly laid back. "Do you always introduce yourself that way?" Varrot asked with a quizzical look.

"I've practiced the line once or twice." He seemed to enjoy the attention the line brought. Hopefully he wouldn't like drawing as much attention on the battlefield. "You know, you Militia soldiers really did a wonder in helping us live up to our name here at this hamlet."

"And how is that?"

Captain Patterson smirked. "We're Echo Company. You know those guys who go into the kill zone, clear up, and take the Imps down?"

"Yes."

"We always come in after them. Like an echo. We were hoping to come in and clear this place out on our way to you, but once again we were beaten to the punch." He seemed legitimately disappointed. It was a cute analogy, but Varrot didn't laugh.

"I'm sure we'll be seeing our fair share of combat in the next few days," she said. Although Patterson's group was only one Company, she hoped he was downplaying their experience. "Now that you're finished with your meal, I trust you can fill me in on the current situation?"

"Of course." In an instant, his smile was replaced with the hardened look Varrot had seen on dozens of other Army officers. Though the sudden change in expression was a bit unnerving, she was comforted by the impression that he wasn't completely incompetent. At least so far. "We were just a recon group. The rest of the 1st Infantry Division is camped out about three klicks east of here." Pulling out a map, Patterson pointed out the location. "Now, the Militia was supposed to meet up at that position earlier this morning, but with your delays…" He was being careful with his words. Varrot was determined not to lower her gaze. "However legitimate, that didn't end up happening. General Cogny decided the assault wasn't waiting, and the 2nd Infantry and the 6th Armor moved on Rodez this afternoon. As soon as conditions allow, we're taking you back to the 1st Infantry encampment. From there we'll take trucks into Rodez and pick up the positions we were originally supposed to take."

"The other divisions have already started moving in on our objectives?"

Captain Patterson sighed. "As best they can. They would have had to have spread themselves pretty thin. It's not as big a city as Belfort, but Rodez isn't small. I'm sure they haven't made it through yet."

"Well, I'm sorry Captain Patterson," Varrot apologized once again, "but it looks like thanks to us you'll be living up to your name once more."

The man's smile returned. "Ah, but I'm sure we'll show the Imps we were worth the wait once we get in." Excusing himself, Captain Patterson stood up and pushed in his chair. "We won't be able to really move until the storm dies down, so in the meantime, it might be a good idea to get some rest. I'll let you know when we're heading out."

"Of course. Thank you, Captain." Varrot watched as the man left the room. Meeting with Army officers was always an interesting experience. They were either deadly soldiers or completely incompetent. There didn't seem to be any middle ground. Patterson didn't seem like an idiot, but she wouldn't know for sure until they entered the city, and not knowing made her nervous. Shrugging it off for now, Captain Varrot prepared to brief her executive officers.

* * *

He could tell she was angry by the way she couldn't focus on one point for more than a few seconds. When she was mad – really furiously angry – she always moved her gaze around the room when she wasn't glaring at the target of her fury. Karl was currently that unfortunate target. In front of him, Lynn raged and paced. If he had to choose between her and an Imperial firing squad, it would have been a tough choice. "I mean, dammit Karl, what were you thinking?"

His bout with Cezary. When she'd heard about it, Lynn was less than happy, and quite a bit more than mad. Nonetheless, Karl had to try to defend himself against her onslaught. "Lynn, I just…"

"No, check that. You _weren't _thinking." She wasn't going to let him get a word in. "I don't get it. As soon as a woman comes into the picture you guys stop thinking with the head between your shoulders and do something stupid." Once again, Lynn took her eyes off of Karl and swept the room. It felt like a weight had been lifted off of Karl's chest. "I can't for the life of me figure out what was going through your head. Were you trying to protect my honor or something?" The glare was back on Karl. It took him a second to work up a response.

"Lynn… he called you a darkie." It was honest, but the delivery was half hearted. He had a feeling he knew what was coming. He was right.

"I've been called a darkie since I was ten," she replied. For the first time since she began her drilling, her anger was replaced with something more akin to dejection. As soon as it came, it disappeared. "And I thought I told you to stay out of it!"

"And you said Cezary didn't bother you." It was a cop out, and he knew it. She probably did too, but he had to say something. "I said I'd let you handle Rosina. Cezary is in _my _section, and I'm not going to allow that kind of talk in _my _unit."

"Ramona's unit. And Cezary _doesn't _bother me. I haven't said five words to him in all my time with the Squad, and he hasn't said five back. As far as racists go, he's tame. I almost wish him well." At this point, she'd stopped yelling and began pacing. It was all part of her routine. Karl could always tell what stage of anger she was in by how she acted. "What did Ramona say when she walked in on you, by the way?"

"She, uh, told me to get my ass through the door." Embarrassing.

"Good."

Karl knew he shouldn't push his luck, but as long as they were on the topic, he had to ask. "How are things going with Rosina, by the…"

"That's none of your business." Lynn was no longer looking at Karl at all. She was almost to withdrawal, at which point Karl would be in the clear for a while. Without looking up, she began walking to the door. "I'm going to get some sleep for a bit. Don't follow me."

"Yeah… Goodnight, Lynn."

She didn't return the greeting. Instead she paused just before the door and put her hand on the frame. "Oh and Karl, if you're going to freeze up again, please don't do it in a doorway." Carefully, she ran her hand up and down the frame. "Those things are kill funnels. We lose a lot of people going through…" Was her tone grief or remorse? Karl couldn't tell. Letting go of the door frame, she turned the corner and disappeared out of sight.

With a sigh, Karl slumped into the nearest chair and closed his eyes. He was back in the doghouse. Rolling his head back, he tried to get some sleep before the Squad set out.

* * *

Once the rain stopped, the Militia Squads followed Echo Company back to the 1st Infantry Division's camp. From there, they piled into trucks and began their journey to Rodez. 3rd and 4th sections were sitting in the back of an open bed truck with Sergeant Caird. As Platoon Commander, Catherine O'Hara sat up front in the passenger seat next to the driver. It was more comfortable there. The driver was a Private from the Army, and he was more than happy to discuss anything under the sun. She'd nodded politely at his monologues, but that was about it. She was more focused on the road ahead. Any second they'd be coming up on the city.

"You're a vet of EWI, right?" She'd only been half paying attention, but the question snapped her back into the moment.

"That's right. It was a while back, though. Different war."

The man nodded his head. "See a lot of street fighting back then?"

Catherine looked out the passenger window. "Not really. I was mostly fighting in the trenches. We Militia let the Army handle the cities."

"So this is new for you too, eh?" he asked with a smile.

"Yeah." Turning her head, Catherine looked the driver over. He looked about 20. "You seen combat before?"

"A little," he bragged. "Marberry's my first big one."

"You're doing just fine. Just make sure you've got clean socks and plenty of ammo."

"You sound like my mother," the driver laughed. "You know, she…" His voice droned into the sound of the engine. As the truck rounded a corner, the city came into view. O'Hara couldn't see any fighting within the city, but the sound of artillery shells was audible over the roar of the truck engine. On the other side of the road, she watched as a constant stream of vehicles left the city.

"Hey," she interrupted. "What's with those trucks leaving the city? I thought everyone was going in."

The driver watched as one of the trucks passed. "Casevacs. 2nd Infantry moved in with the armor yesterday. They've been pulling wounded out ever since. Medical set up a field hospital just outside the city."

The explanation didn't put Catherine at ease. There were a lot of trucks pulling out of the city. She sat in silence as the vehicle began to pass out of the country. The sound of the fighting was growing louder.

"You know," the man said, "I've never been here before. I've got a cousin who…"

He was interrupted when the radio went off. "Brown Dog, this is White Dog – Message for you. Stand by to copy, over."

The driver looked over at Catherine. "Sorry about this, give me just a second." Taking one hand off the steering wheel, he picked up the radio's handset. "This is Brown Dog – Standing by to copy."

The voice cut back in through the radio. "Brown Dog, your drop off point hasn't changed. Take your load in and head east. 2nd Infantry will be holding the point. The Militia will relieve them and continue on, how copy?"

"Good copy White Dog, heading east and relieving 2nd Infantry. Out." He put the handset back on the dashboard. "Looks like 2nd cleaned up for you. I'll drop you in on top of them."

"Thanks." Catherine was glad they wouldn't have to grab of foothold on the city. The Army had already taken care of that for them. As they neared their destination, she began to check her equipment. She'd been sure to pack an extra bandolier's worth of ammunition. There were a lot of places for snipers to hide in a city, and she didn't want to be caught off guard. After finishing her check, she looked back out the window. The sound of the fighting was alarmingly close. Outside, Army troops were running through the street.

"This can't be right…" The driver looked worried. "We shouldn't come up on our drop off point for another five minutes. It looks like they're fighting right outside our window."

"Just stay calm," Catherine replied. "We haven't seen any shots fired yet. We're still in the clear." No sooner had she said that when they came upon an intersection held by a 2nd Infantry fire team. Two riflemen began firing down the cross street, and the team leader was calling targets to a man manning a .30 caliber mounted on the back of a jeep. As their truck passed, a lancer round struck in front of the machine gunners position. The blast threw debris through the intersection, but the gunner kept firing. As the truck continued down the road, the sound of the gunfire became distant.

Once more, the driver picked up the radio's handset. "White Dog, this is Brown Dog – Uh… Interrogative. There's a lot of fighting still going on down this road. Are you sure we're headed the right way?"

"That's affirmative. Keep on up the road and turn right once you hit Maple. 2nd will have their position just down that road. Out."

Catherine could tell the driver was inexperienced. "Hey kid, you're doing a good job. Just keep driving, we'll be alright." She wished she felt as confident as she sounded. Catherine always had a tendency to expect the worst.

Ahead the road came to a slight bend. As they rounded it, they could see a large group of Gallian Infantrymen holding the crossroad. Looking up, Catherine could see that it was Maple Street. On their approach, one of the soldiers waved them down. The vehicle stopped, and the man walked up to O'Hara's window. "You guys the Militia?" he asked as he counted the trucks in the column.

"That's us," she replied. "I thought we were supposed to be dropped up the road. What's going on?"

The man looked annoyed. "You were supposed to be dropped off yesterday. We haven't cleared the road because we're spread too thin covering for you." Without smiling, he opened her door. "Get your men out here."

Within a minute, Squad 7 had unloaded and began taking the position the Infantry had held. The man who had walked up to O'Hara's door stuck around and briefed the Squad's leaders on the situation. "We had cleared all the way up down the road, but a counterattack pushed us back, and we haven't had the reinforcements to move up again. Now that you and the 1st are here, you can do your job." Peering around the corner he pointed out the shell of a burning tank at the first crossroad. "See that tank? Follow that road to the right and you'll find an Imperial AT gun emplacement. We can't move tanks down this road until it's taken out, and without tanks, we can't take the city. That's your first job." Next, he pointed out the building on the far side of the intersection. "That building on the right has an Imperial scout team in it. Two scouts, a shock trooper, and a lancer. If you can take that lancer out, you can move a tank in to kill the other three and open a route towards that AT gun. Just don't move your tank too far up." Without turning around, he pointed to a spot on the ground in front of him. "Now, Ms., if you'll step up here for a moment."

In the immediate vicinity, there were four people who qualified as Ms. They all looked at each other. Finally, Alicia spoke up. "Which Ms.?"

Realizing his mistake, he tried to narrow it down. "Sorry, I mean the one with the un-regulation hair style."

Once more, the women looked at each other. "Um… Who do you mean again?"

Finally, he turned around and took the women in. Each one of them had their hair done differently. "Militia cowboys…" he muttered to himself. "The designated marksman."

Marina stepped forward and silently went prone at the position he indicated. Taking the scope caps off her Mags, she flicked the safety and began to scout the building. She could see all four targets.

"You see that lancer in there, Ms.?"

Only his head was visible. They must have seen that the 2nd infantry group didn't have a sniper with them, and from their distance her gun would still look like a normal Mags M10 without looking through binoculars. "Am I cleared to fire?"

The 2nd Infantry squad leader turned to the rest of the Milita and 1st Infantry soldiers. "You guys ready to go?"

Alicia looked the Squad over. They were already set to go, and the 1st Infantry squads gave her the thumbs up. "All set."

"You're clear to fire, Ms."

Slowly, Marina drew back on the trigger. Surprising even herself, the Mags went off, and her bullet was met with a fine pink mist. "Hmph," was the only indication of an emotional response she gave.

"Good kill. Guess you Militia aren't completely worthless after all." Marina took no acknowledgment of his comment, but Alicia shot him a disgusted look. "You're clear to go. Happy hunting."

As the man walked away, Welkin stepped forward and prepared to mount the Eidelweiss. He looked run down, but he stood tall nevertheless. "Alright Squad. We're all tired, but we've got to capture this city. First things first. Take out that AT gun." As he spoke, he gained momentum with each word. As he reached the end of his speech, he thrust his arm out and pointed down the road. "Squad 7, move out!"

* * *

Next Engagement: House to House


	10. House to House

**Engagement 10: House to House**

The tank shell slammed through the first story window of the building, and the resulting explosion sent plaster and mortar flying into the street. A slowly settling cloud of dust and smoke concealed the damage from view, and Marina Wulfstan couldn't tell if the shell had taken out the three remaining targets inside. Looking up from her position on the ground, she could see that the Shamrock's barrel was still smoking. It would be a minute or two until the dust dissipated. They couldn't wait. Waving the rest of her squad forward, she would have to depend on Zaka to gun down any Imperials left alive if they retaliated. Trust wasn't something that came easily for her, but her hands were tied.

Slowly, the squad crept along the sidewalk and advanced on the intersection. The urban environment was almost alien – the squad hadn't fought their way through a city since taking Vasel months before. She made sure to keep an extra eye on their surroundings. Vasel had been a haven for snipers and machine gun crews. The results weren't pretty. Marina had been promoted to Lance Corporal there after the man before her had his jaw shot off by an Imperial sharpshooter.

Within a minute, they'd made it to the crossroad, and Marina took a kneel at the corner of the building the squad walked along. The AT emplacement would be to their right, but she didn't doubt there would be an Imperial squad or two down the road in the other direction. Squad 7 would have to split into two groups to take the intersection. Stepping forward, Alicia knelt next to her. Behind her, Sergeant Coren and Staff Sergeant O'Hara pressed themselves against the wall. By the look on her face, Alicia had come to the same conclusion Marina had. "Wulfstan. Can you see anything around that corner?"

Running her hand through her hair, Marina shifted the bangs covering her left eye over in front of her right. She wanted to create as small a profile as possible as she checked the corner, and switching eyes meant she could scout out the street with only half of her face exposed. Surprisingly, it wasn't a full street at all. The road went down for about 100 meters before it ended. The building at the end of the road was likely where they'd set up the AT weapon, but she couldn't confirm its position. She'd only had her head out for two seconds or so, but it was enough to attract attention. A stream of bullets struck the wall around her, and she quickly pulled her head back behind the corner. "Sir. Dead end. 100 meters." She didn't bother with full sentences. "AT gun's probably positioned in the building at the end of the road. Second floor, judging by the angle the round hit that tank."

Alicia turned to Juno and Catherine behind her. "Here's the plan," she said as she stood from her kneel. "Coren, you're coming with me. We'll take 1st and 2nd squads left with an Army fire team and clear the road up to the next intersection." Juno nodded and turned to brief Wavy and Rosie. "O'Hara, 3rd and 4th squads are taking out that gun. You've got an Army squad for support. Do whatever you need to get it done."

"Yes, sir. We'll take care of it."

Alicia nodded. Raising her hand, she waved down Welkin from his position at the Eidelweiss's hatch. She then pointed down the middle of the intersection. Welkin waved back and disappeared into the battle tank. "Go on the smoke," she ordered.

A moment later, the ISARA round struck the crossroad, and the smoke slowly spread through the streets. Catherine took the moment to issue her orders. "3rd squad, across the street! 4th, down this side! 1st Infantry, take any cover you can find here with me and lay down some suppressing fire!" Once more Marina peeked around the corner. There wasn't much cover down the road aside from a couple of cars and door stoops. They would need all the covering fire they could get. As if on cue, the smoke from the ISARA round floated over her.

"3rd squad, on me!" Springing to her feet, Marina began her sprint across the intersection. Though the Imperials couldn't see the Gallians running through the smoke screen, that didn't stop them from taking pot shots, and she could hear the metallic clang of rounds impacting the crippled tank in the intersection. Ignoring the interception fire, she ran across the street and stepped through the store window of the building the Shamrock had devastated. Going in first was stupid, and she knew it. Though she was equipped with a Mags, the automatic fire had been stripped, and the smaller rounds of the weapon lacked the stopping power of the rifles. In a close firefight, shock troopers relied on their high volume of fire, and scouts and engineers could count on their targets going down in one shot. She could do neither, and at longer ranges she sometimes had to put two or three rounds into a target to keep it down. _Storming a building with a glorified pea shooter. Stupid…_

Luckily, the front room seemed clear. On further inspection, there were two Imperials on the floor along with the one she'd put down earlier. Behind her, Nils Daerden stepped into the building, shotgun raised. His lance was tightly secured to the back of his rig, resting comfortably in three pieces at the small of his back. "Galian Militia!" he yelled through the building. "Any survivors come out with your weapons down and your hands up!" There was no reply, and he lowered his weapon. One by one, the rest of the squad filed in. "Looks clear."

Marina took a moment to make sure everyone had made it across the street. All soldiers were accounted for. "Looks it," she replied. "You know the drill. One round in each." Having given the Imperials a chance to surrender, she wanted to make sure they weren't met with any surprises once they had their backs turned. While an Imperial solder's armor looked outdated and wouldn't stop a straight shot, it did wonders in protecting against shrapnel, debris, and other glances or ricochets. As a result, the Imperials either went down hard or not at all. Pulling her sidearm, she walked up to the nearest scout and fired an extra shot into his chest. He didn't move. _Dead after all. _Daerden took care of the second. The lancer wasn't getting back up. "Anyone see the fourth?"

"I think I see… parts." Mica Hawkins pointed to three places around the room. Sure enough, fragments of Imperial shock trooper armor were scattered all over the floor. In the debris, it was hard to tell it apart from the multitude of other random fragments. "Looks like Zaka scored a direct hit."

Nils smirked. "That's all four down then. Building's cleared."

"Damn," Ted whispered to Melville. "It's either killing animals or people. Or both. Our squad leaders really need to talk to someone. Like, professionally." The other boy gave a quick laugh.

"Something funny, Young?" Nils didn't look as amused as the two boys. In fact, his face didn't show much expression at all. The blank stare disturbed Melville in a way any other face couldn't.

"Uh… No sir," he stammered. "I just… Er… Well… Ted was saying..."

"Quiet." Marina was on the move again. "Salinger, Abbot, Hawkins. There's a connecting door here. It should take us from house to house. We'll ride it as far as it goes." The three shock troopers moved into position to storm the building next door. "Boer, I want you close behind them. Put a shell in any door they can't get through. Clement, keep him supplied." Pausing a moment to chew her gum, she looked over the rest of her unit. "The rest of you, follow in through. Daerden, follow in last and make sure nobody falls behind."

Behind the other soldiers, Nils shot her a glare. He didn't like babysitting. "Sir." Anyone else might have caved, but Marina kept her face blank. With Daerden as assistant squad leader, every order was a battle for dominance in the squad hierarchy. So far she'd kept the upper hand, but any ground lost would give him momentum. With a wave, she ordered the shock troopers through the door, and they began to clear the next building. As she walked through behind them, the sound of gunfire erupted in the intersection. The smoke screen had faded.

The second building was empty. Its first floor had served as a textile shop, and the store owners had lived in an apartment on the second. There were no Imperials in sight. Looking out the front window, Marina couldn't tell how far 4th squad had made it. She wondered if every house on the street had a connecting door, though she doubted they would be that lucky. This building, however, had a second connection leading into the building next door. She was just about to send her shock troopers through when Ramsey caught her attention. "Sir, chatter on the radio," she said. "2nd squad has a man down."

With a concerned look, Kevin took the bait. "Who's hit?"

"It's Noce. In the chest." Ramsey still had the handset to her ear. "Fina's working on him."

Abbot winced. "Do you think… Is he going to be ok?"

Ramsey began to speak, but she was quickly cut off. "That's not our problem now." Marina's one visible eye was set on the door in front of them. "We're taking out that gun. What happens over there doesn't concern us." Giving another wave, she signaled the shock troopers through, and with a blast of Theold's shotgun they began their sweep of the house. This time, she let everyone through in front of her. Before Nils went through, she stopped him. "Is Mina close by?"

"With 4th squad."

Marina looked across the street. It would be a lot of ground to cover under fire if they needed a medic in a hurry. "Hina?"

"Dead."

_Shit. _"Keep moving."

Nils balked. "I don't need you telling me what to do, woman."

While Nils wouldn't confront Marina in front of the rest of the squad, he was more than willing to do it when they were alone. Instead of disciplining him, the woman met him eye to eye. At 5'11", Marina was one of the tallest women in Squad 7. She was still a good couple of inches shorter than Nils, but her reputation made up for any lost inches. "Don't ever question me again," she said without raising her voice. Silently, she turned and continued through the doorway. The squad was already assembled on the other side. Ted was standing at the front.

"What took you guys? We'll all get killed if our squad leaders are fooling around with each other in the rear." It got a few chuckles, but nobody dared to laugh. "Luckily, you've got me!"

"And I wonder what dirty woman gave you to me." Nils smiled at Ted's misfortune. "I bet a hit of penicillin would take you for a spin too."

"Peni…" Ted tried to defend himself, but he was at a loss for words. "You know, you're hanging around those medics too much. That penicillin stuff's never going to catch on. Ragnite medicine's still going strong."

Marina had a strong feeling Nils's extensive knowledge of drugs hadn't come from hanging around the medics, but past how any information could be relevant to the current situation, she didn't care. "Not important now," she said as she regained control of her squad. Looking around the room, she could see their luck had run out. The building was empty, but there was no connecting door. They would have to take the fight into the street. "Clement, Radio."

Ramsey moved next to her, and Marina grabbed the handset off her back. "Linton, this is Wulfstan – We need to move through the street. What's going on over there? Over."

Ramona's voice came in through the radio. "This is Linton – We're in the third house. Doors stop here. We can see some movement across the street though. Fifth house, looks Imperial." They'd made it just as far as she had and ran into the same situation.

"Roger. We're going to move on the next house. Hold your position and keep us covered until we can reach that gun. O'Hara, are you reading?"

"I'm reading," she replied through the radio. "We'll keep covering and watch our fire. Just keep an eye open. They don't seem to have a machine gun set up, but we can't put any fire on the buildings lining the road."

"Understood. Out." Within moments, she had her squad ready to move. With 4th squad covering their side of the street and O'Hara and the 1st Infantry covering the building at the end of the road, they would only have to cover the houses directly across from them. "Bound in groups of two. Once you shock troopers get there, make sure the place is clear. Everyone else, keep covering those buildings." She couldn't see anyone yet, but as soon as someone stepped out she was sure they'd find targets. "First two, go."

Hannes and Mica stepped out of the front door and began their run to the next building. Instantly, a barrage of fire from Ramona's position tore into the houses on their side of the street. Within a few seconds, the two shock troopers burst through the door of the house and began their sweep. "Second two, go." Kevin and Theold this time. The two had made it half way to the door when they came under fire. Marina looked for the shooter, and saw that he was firing from three houses down across the street. Calling the target, she diverted her squad's fire onto the building. "Next two, go!" It looked like a small fire team. They were pretty well dug into the building, and it would be difficult to hit them from their angle of fire. "Melville," she said, "Get up here." The scout knelt next to her. "Put a grenade through that window."

"Coming right up." The grenade struck the building just below the second story window frame. While it didn't kill anyone inside, it blew off a large chunk of the building's façade. Seizing the opportunity, Marina took aim at the now exposed shock trooper. Firing a single shot, the round tore through the man's knee, and he toppled over forward and out of the building. The rest of the fire team slowed their fire.

After a minute, the entire squad had made it into the building. Once more, there was no connecting door. Taking cover behind anything in the room, the squad continued to return fire on the buildings across the street. Slowly, more Imperials were coming out of hiding. With an increased volume of fire coming in their direction, they would have to be quick about moving from house to house. The fact that Ramona had confirmed that there were Imperial's next door didn't help the fact. Their original plan would have to be modified. While reloading her Mags, Marina gave her orders. "Four in the first group this time. I want Salinger, Hawkins, Bohr, and Clement. Before you enter the house, I want Clement to give you shocks some frags. Toss them in before you enter. Theold, make sure the doors are down. On my signal." Turning, she fired a barrage of shots into the windows across the street. The inaccuracy of her covering fire almost physically hurt her. "Go."

The group of four stepped out into the open. The interception fire was much greater than it had been even moments before. Not wanting to waste any time, Ramsey distributed her grenades on the run. As the group made it in front of the house, the shock troopers armed their grenades and tossed them into the windows of the house. As they went off, Ramsey caught sight of an Imperial lancer on a rooftop across the street. Raising her weapon, she warned the other three of the threat. "Lancer on the rooftop! I'm on him!" Aiming at the lancer's chest, she pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

Seeing the misfire, Hannes raised his Mags. Putting the Lancer in his sight picture, he fired. The lancer was only half a second faster. His grenade round struck Theold in the chest. The explosion sent shrapnel into Hannes's upper arm, and Ramsey fell crashing to the ground. Theold was in five places at once. Grabbing Ramsey's rig, Mica picked the girl up and half dragged her off the ground. The three remaining soldiers pushed their way into the building and dove behind cover.

From next door, Marina had seen the entire incident. The enfilade fire combined with the Imperials in the buildings surrounding them would tear the squad to pieces. For the moment though, it was their only option. Hoping the rest of the squad hadn't watched Theold being torn apart by the lance round, she ordered them to keep moving. "Next group, go!"

One by one, the groups continued to make the crossing. Nils followed in with the second group and organized the squad as they came into the building. Marina sent each group along once the previous group made it to safety. Finally, only she and Knute were left. "We're up," she said as she moved towards the doorway. "Let's go."

The two stepped out into the street. Looking back, Marina could see the 1st Infantry squad laying down a line of fire on the target building. With as much fire as they were putting on it, it was a wonder that so many bullets were still coming their way. But they were. In front of her, Knute was making his mad dash to safety. The sound of an impact filled the air, and she watched as a stream of blood flew from his upper torso and he spun, landing back on the ground. Swinging the Mags onto her shoulder, Marina paused only long enough to grab onto the back of his chest rig and began to drag him the rest of the way to the door. Three more rounds fell around them, and a fourth struck the already wounded man in the thigh, leaving a bloody trail behind him as he was dragged.

Stepping through the doorway, Nils grabbed Knute and pulled him behind a counter. Checking, the man could see he still had a pulse, but was shot in the thigh and – more pressingly – the neck. Putting pressure on the wound, he called out to his squad leader. "He needs a medic now or he's not going to make it."

Grabbing Ramsey's radio, Marina made the call. "Break, break, break! This is Wulfstan – We've got three men down, need a medic immediately."

O'Hara answered. "This is O'Hara – Status of wounded?"

"One dead, one critical. Other's got shrapnel wounds."

"Roger, we're working on getting Mina over to you, but you're pretty well cut off. Is there anything you can do with your personal kits?"

Looking over, she could see there was a lot of blood coming from the unconscious man's wounds. It wasn't likely the personal medical kits the troops were supplied with would do any good. "Negative, he needs a medic."

There was a long pause in transmission. "Roger. Is there any way you can pull him back so we can stabilize him here?"

_You've got to be kidding. _"Negative."

Nils interrupted the conversation. "Hey, Marina…"

"Quiet, Daerden." Pushing the transmission button, she spoke back into the handset. "Is there _any _way we can get another smoke round in here?"

Once more, Nils spoke up. "Marina…"

"Shut up, Daerden."

O'Hara's voice cut through again. "Negative, not without putting the Eidelweiss within firing range of that AT gun."

"Marina…"

"Nils, I told you to shut the Hell up!"

"Marina, he's dead." For a moment, the woman couldn't move. "I was focused on his neck. Didn't even think about his thigh. Under his pants I couldn't tell how bad he was really bleeding… Must have hit the artery."

The sniper remained frozen for a couple of seconds. Suddenly snapping back into it, she flicked the transmit button. "This is Wulfstan – Disregard this transmission. Out." Setting the handset, back on Ramsey's back, she looked the engineer over and fixed her gaze on her rifle. "When was the last time you cleaned your weapon?" she asked softly.

Ramsey brought her free hand to the back of her neck. "I… uh…"

"Goddammit Ramsey!" She was yelling now. "When was the last time you cleaned your rifle?"

Ramsey stared at the floor. "I… Can't remember."

Ripping the gun from the engineer's hands Marina slung it around her free shoulder and picked up the rifle of one of the Imperial scouts killed by the grenades. As she thrust it into Ramsey's hands, her bangs swung free of her face. A glare from one eye was enough to send most people packing, and Ramsey was now staring down a glare from both. The few people who'd witnessed it never came out of the experience unscathed. Turning back to the Imperial's body, Marina unbuckled his ammo belt. Walking over to Ramsey, she forced it into her hands and removed the remaining ammunition from the girl's chest rig. "Hope for our sakes that he took better care of his weapon than you did." With tears in her eyes, Ramsey couldn't respond.

"Grab Jung's ammo and pass it around," Marina said as she distributed Ramsey's magazines to the rest of the squad. When her hands were finally empty, she took a quick peek out the window. There were still three buildings between them and the AT gun.

"Corporal Wulfstan, sir," Kevin said as he desperately tried to keep his eyes off of Knute's body. "There's no way we can go back out there, sir."

_Yeah, no shit, _she thought to herself. She didn't respond. Instead, Nils spoke up for her.

"We do what we have to, and we have to destroy that gun. Can't do that from here." With a twisted smile, he added, "And you're going to go first."

"What? But sir, there's no way any of us are…"

"Stop." Marina had her hand over her face. If she could block out everyone in the room and find herself alone for a minute without distractions, she might be able to think of a plan. For a full minute she sat in silence. Nothing came.

"How long do you think she's going to sit there, Ted?" Melville asked quietly.

"Don't know Mel. I've never seen her like this."

The two looked at each other. "We're all going to die here, aren't we?"

Ted nodded. "Like mice in a mousetrap, Mel."

Marina's head sprung up. Blinking twice, she stared at Ted. "How many grenades do we have?"

"Sir," he replied, "We can't throw grenades that far. Mel could probably hit with his rifle, but unless we can confirm where the weapon actually is, it would be like taking shots in the dark."

"How many?"

Instantly, understanding dawned on Nils. Taking a quick count, he smiled. "Enough. Depending on how thick they are we'll even have some left over."

"I think you've lost me," Ted said. "How thick what are?"

Marina began to gather the squad's grenades. "We're mouse-holing."

Ted's expression showed he didn't understand. Nils plucked one of the grenades off of his chest rig. "We're blowing through the walls, dumbass," he said as he tossed it between his hands.

Having gathered the grenades, Marina turned to Herbert Nielsen. "You have tape?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Tape the grenade to the wall and arm it. Run back and take cover as fast as you can."

Herbert stared at her. "But that… That takes effort."

She just stared. Was he serious? "…"

"I really don't feel like doing it."

"…"

"Can't you get someone else?"

"…"

"Please?"

"Nielsen?"

An actual response caught him off guard. "Yeah?"

"Do your Goddamn job."

"Y-Yes sir!" Pushed into gear, Herbert grabbed one of the grenades and stuck it to the wall. Scouting out suitable cover before he armed the weapon, he prepared to detonate it. "Fire in the hole!" he yelled before yanking the pull cord. The blast tore a foot and a half round hole through the thin wall. Running forward, Mica aimed his Mags through the hole and fired a burst of shots at the scout on the other side. He hadn't expected the attack through the wall, and was stunned by the explosion. Mica's bullets tore through his armor and sent him stumbling onto a coffee table behind him. Grabbing Herbert's shovel, Kevin began to widen the hole. Within a minute, it was large enough to crawl through. One by one, the squad advanced on the next building.

"Not bad," Melville commented. "Maybe we don't all have to die after all."

"Maybe," Nils said as Herbert prepared the next grenade. Once more, the grenade created a small hole. Building by building, the squad advanced on their target. Finally, only one wall stood between them and the AT gun. As Herbert gathered his supplies, Marina called Catherine on the radio to tell her to watch her fire.

Before Herbert began setting up, Nils walked up to him. "You have any string?"

Herbert looked through his pack. "Yeah, right here."

"Set up four or five grenades this time," Nils said. "Tie the pull cords together with the string and set them off all at once. We need to be able to storm in as soon as they go off."

"That's more work, but yes sir." It took a couple of minutes to set up, but before long, Herbert had five grenades strung together and taped up on the wall. Ducking behind cover, he put tension on the string. "Fire in the hole!" he yelled as he gave it a tug. A few seconds later, the wall exploded. Instantly, the shock troopers rounded the corner and pushed through the hole in the wall. Behind them, Marina followed with the butt of her weapon pressed to her shoulder. Staring down her backup sights, she watched as the shock troopers cleaned the room. One of the Imperials seemed to have been leaning up against the wall as the grenades went off. The back side of his chest plate had been torn wide open, and his body hadn't fared much better. The other two soldiers in the room were too stunned to move, and the advancing Gallians gunned them down quickly. Sending Nils with Mica, Herbert, and Melville to clear the first floor, she began to climb the flight of stairs in the room's corner to find the AT gun. The room at the top of the staircase was empty. Opening the door into the next room, she could see the AT gun, its crew, and an Imperial fire team aiming at the 1st Infantry troops in the intersection. Moving behind the doorframe, she signaled for Kevin to toss in a grenade. As the explosive went off, the squad filed in. Most of the men in the room had been killed by the grenade. Kevin dropped one of the crewmembers who was still standing, and through her backup sights Marina put another two rounds into one of the shock troopers who had been rolling on the floor. Confirming that the room was clear, she called for Ramsey's explosives. The engineer set an explosive charge on the gun, and the squad filed back out of the room to detonate it. The explosion shredded the barrel of the weapon. Grabbing Ramsey's radio, Marina called back to Catherine. "O'Hara, this is Wulfstan – AT gun is down. Armor is free to advance, over."

"Wulfstan, this is O'Hara – Roger. We'll send the armor up to help clear the street. Out."

Setting the radio down, she ordered the rest of the squad to meet up with Nils and help clear the street. She knew she was technically in charge, but she needed a moment alone. One by one, her men filed out. Last in line, Ted stopped before he left the room. Looking back, he could see Marina was sitting with her hand over her face again. "Hey… Are you alright?"

"Fine."

He wasn't convinced. "You know what? I know something that'll cheer you up. How about a joke?"

Marina looked up. "We just lost two men, the barrel of your gun is still hot, and you want to tell me a joke?"

"Yeah, you'll feel better."

"No."

Ted was determined not to walk away. "Come on. One joke. You'll love it." The woman just put her head back down. He was losing her. "It's about animals."

Her head sprung up. He had her attention. "You get one."

_Jackpot. _"Ok, ok. You're going to love this one," he said as he knelt down in front of her. _I'm in. _"How do you make a puppy float?"

She thought it over for a moment. _She's actually going along with it! I've got her this time._

"How?"

_Victory. _"You take your foot off its head!"

Before he knew what hit him, all of the air was sucked out of Ted's chest. He never imagined victory would be so painful. Looking down, he could see Marina's fist in the space his stomach used to occupy. Keeling over onto the floor, he watched as the sniper stood up and double checked her weapon. "Don't ever talk to me," she said on her way out the door. Slowly, Ted's breath came back. Coughing a bit, he pulled himself to his knees. _What just… How did I… _Oh well. At least he was still alive.

*************************************************************************************

Next Engagement: Convoy


	11. Convoy

**Engagement 11: Convoy**

"You're good to go." Hitting the hood of the truck twice, Lynn stepped off of the road and gave the improvised CASEVAC vehicle a clear route out of the intersection. The truck carried the wounded Noce and two Army privates, along with the bodies of Knute Jung and Theold Bohr. Watching the truck pass, Lynn began her search for the one person in the Squad she truly cared about. Karl hadn't been on the truck, which meant he was still alive and uninjured. That was relieving. The hardest part of the war wasn't the killing. It wasn't even accepting the chance that she was one bullet away from following in Knute or Theold's footsteps. It was the waiting. Karl was in 3rd section. She was in 1st. She could never be sure of his safety until he returned, and the minutes or hours before she saw him after a firefight hurt her more than any amount of shrapnel could. The fact that she was still extremely pissed off at him was overshadowed by her concern for his safety.

"What was that all about, Lynn?" The Darscen didn't need to turn around to recognize the voice. It was Rosina Selden.

"What was what about?" Lynn turned to face the other woman. They were about the same height, but Rosina's bulk gave her a domineering appearance.

"You stumbled. If you can't lift a casualty, don't try. Honestly, stretcher bearers need to be able to lift and, frankly, you can't."

After Fina stabilized Noce, Lynn and Rosina acted as stretcher bearers and carried him back for evacuation. Lynn couldn't stand Rosina, but she was glad she was on the other end of the stretcher. It would give her a chance to show she wasn't as weak as Selden thought she was.

"Rosina, I…"

"That's Selden to you."

"You don't make anyone else in the Squad call you Selden." Lynn wasn't intimidated by Rosina's figure. She often used it to push other people around, but so far Lynn had resisted.

"The other members don't botch EVACS."

"Rosina, I…"

Rosina took a step closer. "What did I just tell you?"

Lynn didn't stop to argue the point. "I slipped on a loose brick. That's got nothing to do with being able to lift him."

"It's got everything to do with it. I had to pick up your slack. If you're too weak to get the job done, don't try to do it. You'll end up getting more people killed."

She hadn't wanted to bring the issue to the front, but it was too late now. The adrenaline from the previous battle was still coursing through her veins, and she couldn't hold herself back. "You treat me like shit because I'm a Darcsen, don't you?"

Rosina laughed. "I treat you like shit because you're weak. The fact that your entire race is weak has got nothing to do with it."

The fact that she was laughing almost pushed Lynn over the edge. "We're no weaker than anyone else, _Rosina_." Emphasizing her name sent a wave of satisfaction down Lynn's back.

"I swear Lynn, if you call me that one more time I'll…"

"Hey! What's the hold up here?" The two women turned to face the voice. Musaad. They were in trouble now. "Get your asses in gear! We're loading onto the jeeps, and you're standing around doing jack and squat!"

"Yes, sir!" they said in unison.

"Don't waste time! Time is kills, and I want Imperials dead!"

Karl would have to wait. Stepping away from Rosina, Lynn pushed towards the jeeps. 1st section took up three jeeps near the front of the convoy, just behind a group from the 1st Infantry Division's Echo Company. She made sure she and Rosina wound up in different vehicles. Sliding into the rear passenger seat of the first of the three transports, she took up the last of the five seats. Wavy sat in the passenger seat, and she shared the back of the jeep with Edy and Homer. Freesia was behind the steering wheel. "Hey Freesia," she said. "Don't they usually have specialized drivers for these things?"

"They're supposed to." It didn't seem like Freesia was very happy with the situation. "Unfortunately, the mechanized infantry unit's a bit undermanned now, and they asked for volunteers to help out. He was so cute I just couldn't say no…"

Despite her foul mood, Lynn smiled a bit. _Should have seen that one coming. _"You can at least actually drive the thing, right? I mean if we come under fire…"

"Hey, don't worry," Freesia said. "My MOS was motor vehicle operations before I got kicked out and switched over to reconnaissance."

"Oh, alright, well that's a…" Wait a second. "Whoa. Hold it. Kicked out? You didn't, like, crash a transport vehicle and kill everyone inside, did you?"

"No, nothing like that. I just took a… uh… joyride."

Lynn couldn't believe what she'd just heard. "You stole a military vehicle and didn't get court-martialed?"

Freesia blushed. "The… Uh… Vehicle wasn't moving."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

In the passenger seat, Wavy dropped his face into his palm. "Let's just get going."

Ahead of them the convoy began to move. After destroying the AT gun, the 6th Armor Division was free to advance. While jeeps didn't provide as much cover as halftracks, the support of the Gallian tanks would help keep the infantrymen safe. At the head of the convoy, an S35 medium tank rolled down the street. It was a comforting sight. Besides the Eidelweiss and the Shamrock, Squad 7 hadn't had much experience with friendly tanks. Seeing a tank between every three jeeps created a sense of security within the Squad.

"Salinas would kill to see this," Freesia said as she pushed on the gas pedal.

"Yeah," Homer replied. "We'll have to tell him about it. Him and Elysse."

There was a loud "thunk" as Edy's palm struck the back of his head. "What's _she _got to do with this?"

Rubbing the point of impact, Homer suppressed a smile. "I just figured that since she's only gotten to destroy tanks, she might like to see some that aren't shooting back."

"Well I don't think you really need to tell her about that." Before a second passed, her face lit up. "Oh! Better idea. I'll sing them a song about everything they missed! How's that sound?"

"I don't know, Edy. The last time you tried to sing everyone…"

The second blow went to his thigh. "Everyone loved it. No. They loved _me._"

His leg was cramping already. "Of course." Appeased, Edy smiled.

"Alright, that's enough you two." Wavy was watching the buildings at the side of the road as they passed. "Keep your eyes open. We're not at the front of the convoy, but if there's an ambush we're close enough that we'll probably want to know who's shooting at us."

That quieted the passengers down. In jeeps or not, they were still in a combat zone. Lynn watched as the buildings passed. They all seemed empty. In fact, after clearing the last intersection of Imperials, they hadn't seen a single sign of any other enemy activity. Something seemed off…

"Where are we even going, anyway?" Freesia didn't take her eyes off of the road. They weren't moving fast, but crashing into the back of a tank probably wouldn't leave a good taste in the Captain's mouth.

"Squad 7, along with a detachment of the 6th Armor and Echo Company is to clear up to Ranquet Park," Wavy said in his formal voice. "At least, that's what I've been told. The park is 10 blocks away. Quite a trip."

"Seems pretty quiet as is. I mean, where did they go? What, we kick his ass down the street and Ian Imperial just up and leaves?"

"Just keep your eyes open. I doubt we'll be lucky enough to go 10 blocks without seeing his face somewhere."

The rest of the block passed in silence. Most of the civilians had evacuated Rodez before the Imperial occupation, and those who had stayed had likely taken shelter over the past few days. The streets and windows were empty, and everyone within sight was carrying a weapon. Before anyone knew it, two more blocks had passed without conflict. Lynn's mind began to wander back to Rosina. Wavy was a Darcsen, but Rosina didn't seem to give him any trouble. What had he done to earn her respect? "Wavy, sir," she said. "I was wondering…"

The blast sent Lynn's stomach through her throat, and the sound wave pushed into her chest and rattled every bone in her body. Ahead of them, the tank at the front of the convoy erupted into a fireball of mangled metal and flames, and jagged shards of metal rained down on the surrounding convoy. Slamming on the breaks, Freesia threw the jeep into park and rolled out onto the street. Within seconds, the vehicle was empty.

"Cover your sector!" Wavy yelled as his stomach hit the ground. The tank had exploded without warning. Caught by surprise, the enemy could have been anywhere around them. "Did anyone see what happened?"

Lynn looked towards the burning tank. "There's no smoke trail. It wasn't a lance round." That left one other cause. Mines. "Probably an anti-tank mine." After the initial explosion, the street had gone quiet. "We're not taking any fire though. Think they just set up some mines and pulled out?"

Wavy shook his head. "No. You don't set up traps unless you're going to cover them. They're around somewhere." But where? Other than the Gallian troops, the street was empty.

"Coming through! Hold your fire!" Turning her head towards the voice, Lynn could see an Army officer flanked by two sergeants and a medic running to the front of the column. As they passed, she caught a glimpse of his face.

"Was that… Captain Patterson?"

Wavy watched as the four men took a kneel at the head of the column. "Yeah, but what's a Captain doing running into a kill zone?" For a minute, the Army Captain talked with the men at the front. Pointing to one of the sergeants, he gave an order, and the man left to carry it out. Taking three men with him, the sergeant slowly continued down the street. The remaining sergeant began to help clear the wounded.

Within five minutes, the sergeant Patterson had sent ahead returned. After a brief discussion, the officer picked up a radio. "Hey Freesia," Edy said. "You see what's going on up there?"

"Can't really tell. He's talking to someone." She was straining her eyes and could see what the man was doing, but she couldn't hear what he was saying. "Who knows?"

Setting the radio down, Patterson turned towards the Militia group. Waving his arms, he indicated for them to advance. Moving quickly, Squad 7 moved up to his position. Up close, Lynn could see that the damage to the tank had been catastrophic. Nobody had made it out.

"Alright, here's the deal." Captain Patterson addressed the entire Squad at the same time. "It seems we've run into a minefield. I sent a couple of scouts ahead and this road's lined with enough explosives to blow the Vasel Bridge – and that's just what they could see." Shifting his weight, Patterson continued his briefing. "I've radioed in to Engineering Corps. They've got their hands full, but they're sending a small unit down to help clear the road. Unfortunately, they can't stay. We're not the only group that's run into this problem, and we're not at the top of the priority list. They'll give us supplies to help out, but that's about it." He rubbed the back of his neck as he got to his point. He didn't like giving the order any more than Squad 7 liked receiving it. "We're an Infantry unit. We don't have engineers with us. Luckily, you Militia incorporate your engineers into your regular units. I hate to ask, but… You guys are our only chance to clear the road."

"We'll take care of it." Picking up the nearest radio, Alicia dialed into the Eidelweiss's frequency and relayed the news to Welkin.

"Thank you. We owe you guys one. We were a bit worried going in, but you guys definitely live up to your Squad's reputation." Standing up, Patterson dusted off his pants. "The engineers should be here within the next ten minutes. I'll let you guys run your own show on this one. Just remember, be careful disarming those explosives, and watch out for enemy infantry. If they've set up an overwatch around this position… Well. I don't need to spell it out for you. Good luck."

Once more, Squad 7 would have to clear anti-tank weapons. For all the security they supposedly provided, those tanks were becoming a pain in the ass.

* * *

Next Engagement: Minesweeper


	12. Minesweeper

**Engagement 12: Minesweeper**

The engineer's truck rolled up to the front of the convoy eleven minutes later. Catherine O'Hara watched as a heavyset man in his mid-forties jumped out of the passenger seat and began to make his way towards the Militia group. Just behind the destroyed tank, Squad 7 had assembled into groups and prepared to clear the minefield. When the man reached talking distance, Catherine threw him a salute. "Is that the demining equipment?"

"You're 3rd Battalion's Militia Squad 7, right?"

"Yes, that's us."

"That's your equipment then." Turning back to the truck, he waved for the driver to pull the vehicle forward. "Can you call your engineers over here? We've got three more stops to make after this, and I'd like to get this done as quickly as possible."

"Of course." In a movement that mimicked the man's, O'Hara turned towards the rest of the Militiamen nearby and waved the engineers over to her. The soldiers began to assemble. "Three more stops, eh? More mines?"

The man shook his head. "I wish. Only one more set of mines. The other two are improvised explosive devices. Seems the Imps aren't too worried about collateral damage."

"Seems so." The engineers had assembled. All told, six soldiers stood in the group along with Catherine. It would be a long process disarming so many mines with that few. Long and dangerous. "All here, sir. We'll take your equipment any time."

"Good." The man walked over to the back of the supply truck and pulled out a small crate. Setting it down in front of the group, he pried off the lid and began to rummage though the contents. "We've got three standard issue mine detectors in the back of the truck. I'll distribute them in a moment. I assume you've all had training with them?"

"We may be Militia, but our troopers receive the same qualifications as any other branch of the military."

The man shrugged. "Good. That'll save me some time… And you some limbs." Reaching into the crate, he pulled out a small rectangular block about half a foot long. The bottom of the object was carved into, creating a V shaped hollow. "This is where you're going to want to pay attention. We've been experimenting, and these objects in the crate are going to save you a lot of time and energy. Lightly, he tossed the brick to Catherine. It was remarkably heavy for its size. "That's a linear shaped charge, ma'am." Turning the block over once or twice, she passed it onto the engineers. "Instead of manually disarming the mine's triggering device like you learned in Tactical Combat Engineering School – which is incredibly dangerous – you're going to place one of these things on the body of the mine. When it goes off, it'll crack the mine case without triggering the actual explosives in the device."

Karl turned the charge over in his hands. "What good will that do us? Cracked case or not, unless we can disarm the trigger the explosives will still go off when we try to run the tanks over them."

Once more the man reached into the crate. "Yeah, unless you can neutralize the explosive itself." Pulling out a small bottle, he walked over and handed it to Karl. It contained a reddish brown liquid.

"What's this?"

"Diethylenetriamine."

Dallas narrowed her eyes. "Can you say that in Europan?"

"DETA, for short. Once the case is cracked, pour this in. It creates a reaction with TNT that will essentially neutralize the device. You can use it on anything with a TNT or RDX base; Tetryl, Comp-B, Hexanite… Whatever. Pour it in and you're good to move on."

Karl passed the bottle on to the next person. "Almost sounds too good to be true."

"Unfortunately, it is." Karl dreaded the words. There was always a catch. "Every engineer in Gallia has been craving this stuff since we got it in. We don't have a whole lot to spare you. You'll make due with what we give you and then you're on your own."

"O-Oh."

"Also, it won't neutralize anything with a PETN base, so don't try it. You'll end up getting yourself killed." Gathering the charge and the bottle, he set them back into the crate and started walking back towards the truck. "I've got two more crates for you and three mine detectors. Give me a hand unloading, yeah?"

"Of course," Catherine said. "Peron, Wyatt, Nadine. Let's go." Following the man, the four Militiamen began unloading the crates. Before Catherine could pull down the first crate, something in the supply truck caught her eye. She recognized it from her days fighting in EWI. "Excuse me, sir," she said to the engineer. "Does that thing still work?"

"What, that old mine flail? It's a relic, but it works just fine – If you can find a tank to fit it on. It's an EWI model. We only carry it around as a symbol of sorts. It was on my tank back in the first war."

It was exactly what she thought it was. "Do you think we could borrow it?"

"Won't do you any good. It was built for EWI medium tanks. Today's tanks have a wider frame. It won't fit. You'd need an old Mustang or Corsair or…"

"We've got a Corsair." The Edelweiss. "It's heavily modified, but I don't think the frame's been changed. It should still fit, if we can mount it."

The engineer was clearly surprised. Jumping up into the truck bed, he searched through his supplies. "Yeah. Looks like the mountings are still here. What are you doing with a Corsair though? Is the Militia that backwards?"

"I guess you could say it's a piece of history." Helping the man carry the mountings out, Catherine called over to Dallas. "Wyatt, get on the radio and tell Lieutenant Gunther to bring the Edelweiss up to the front."

"Yes, sir."

Catherine gathered the remaining engineers. "We need to get that flail out of the truck. It'll take all of you to lift it. Grab a couple more hands and get on it." Running, the soldiers went off to ready the flail. The engineer set the last of the mine detectors next to the crates.

"I'm sorry we could only spare three. Are you going to be alright with that? As I recall you Militia set yourselves up in four sections per unit."

Looking over the equipment he'd provided, Catherine nodded. "We should be fine. I'll let the first two sections take one each and run my own platoon through as a group. We should be fine as long as we stick together."

"Be careful. Explosives aren't something to mess around with."

"I know. We'll be safe."

"Good." Slowly, the engineer skimmed his gaze over O'Hara's platoon. "Are those your men?"

Catherine smiled. "Yes sir, indeed they are."

"You have a family?"

"Only them," she sighed. "They make up for it, though."

He rubbed his chin. "Good… That's good." His eyes were fixed on one point. "Who's that girl over there? With the dark hair?"

"Hm? Her?" O'Hara's sight fell on the woman the engineer was pointing at. "That's Corporal Wulfstan. She leads my 3rd section."

"So she'd be without the mine detector?"

"Yes, that's right. Either her or Corporal Linton."

The man thought for a moment. "Would it be alright if I went over and talked with her for a second?"

"I don't see why not," Catherine said. "She's… She's trouble, though. Not a people person, either. I wouldn't recommend it myself, but if you're dead set on the idea make sure you watch out for yourself."

"Trouble, eh? Yeah… Figures. Thank you, ma'am. G'luck with the flail."

Catherine threw the man a last salute. "No. Thank you. Stay safe." Dropping her arm, she began to help the engineers with the mine disposal equipment. Turning away from the group, the engineer made his way towards O'Hara's platoon. Distanced from the rest of the group, the woman he'd inquired about stood resting her back and the bottom of her left boot on the side of a tank.

"Um… Excuse me. Ma'am?" She looked up. "I'm… Err… Sorry to bother you, but I'm issuing mine detecting equipment, and we've run into a slight issue." She continued chewing her gum. "Well, you see… Uh… We only have three mine detectors to spare, and you've got four groups. That leaves you in a sticky place, right?" She didn't respond. After a few seconds, he gave up and continued on. "Right. So, I'm looking around and I see that you're out of luck with the detectors and I thought…"

"Don't waste my time. What's your point?"

She was blunt. He'd been expecting it. "Of course." Breathing in, he got over his initial shock. "I've got someone with me who can help you. A specialist. He's the best there is; I trained him myself. If you're willing to let him help you, I can introduce you and let him work with you guys until you clear this road. What do you think?"

"I think he isn't going to make shit difference without a mine detector."

Blunt _and _coarse. He'd been expecting that too. "Like I said, he's the best there is."

Marina uncrossed her arms. Unconsciously, her right hand went down to the butt of her sidearm. "The Militia may not have a reputation for being the most disciplined or proficient fighting force in Gallia, but we're not incompetent. We can do it ourselves."

The engineer let out an exasperated sigh. "Just like back then…" He began to walk away. "Here, I'll just bring him over and introduce you."

"I'll pass."

"It'll only take a moment. If you don't like him I'll take him back with me on my way out, but I promise he'll do you good. Just don't hurt his feelings, alright?" He was gone. Marina's day had just gone from bad to worse. First she'd had to lead a section that couldn't tell its right hand from its left through a brutal firefight, and now she had to deal with some prodigy engineer who believed he could sense mines with x-ray vision. To cap it off, her brooding and intimidation techniques hadn't worked on that man. In fact, the more she'd tried to scare him off the happier he'd become.

_Nothing's worth this. I hope they're happy when they can finally call themselves… What the Hell?_

Smiling, the man was walking back to Wulfstan's spot next to the tank. The specialist walked beside him. _He's… _Marina couldn't believe it. _He's really cute. _She looked him over. When she'd finished, she looked him over again. _He's so tall. _Unable to move, she'd stopped chewing her gum._ Those are the most beautiful eye's I've ever seen. _She couldn't take her own off of them. They were a shade of dark brown.

As the two approached, the Marina pushed herself off the side of the tank and stood up straight. The engineer and the specialist stopped in front of her. Still smiling, the man began the introductions. "Corporal, I'd like you to meet my partner, Conner."

She had to force herself to speak. "I… Hello, Conner."

"There we go," said the engineer. "Off to a good start already." Stepping forward, he handed Marina the leash. "He's a four year old Alsatian. Trained him in bomb detection myself. If there's an explosive out there, he can sniff it out. He knows all your basic commands, but you want to watch out for his 'sit'. Conner's trained as a passive response worker. That means if he smells an explosive, he'll go over and sit in front of it. Doesn't set it off that way. When he performs a successful detection, you should… Hey. Are you paying attention to me?"

Marina looked up from the dog. "Yeah."

"Alright then. When he performs a successful detection, you should give him a reward. He likes treats. I've got some in this bag here for you."

"Yeah."

Handing the bag of dog treats to the woman, the engineer bent down to pat the dog on the head. "Now, you have to be careful with him. He may just look like a dog but when I said he was the best there was I meant it. This dog has more training than you do. He's worth more too. Don't let him die. Even putting money aside, he's worth more than Ducats to me. Bring him back safe."

"Yeah."

"Yeah," the Engineer said. "Just like back then…" Giving Conner one last rub down, he stood up and began to leave. "Good luck, Corporal."

"Yeah." Conner sat at her feet. When she looked up, the engineer was already half way to the rest of the platoon. "Hey… Wait!"

The engineer turned. "What?"

Marina looked back down at the dog. Tongue out, he yawned. "Why?"

He didn't give an answer right away. Instead, he looked the woman over and smiled sadly. "You're a dead ringer for my daughter. She's dead." Dropping his head for a moment before turning around, the man walked off. As he left, Marina knelt next to the bomb dog and stroked the fur on his neck. Things were starting to look up.

* * *

"Why doesn't Squad 3 ever have to clear mine fields?"

"What are you talking about, Cherry? Of course Squad 3 has to clear mine fields."

"Hermes, have you ever seen Squad 3 clearing a mine field?"

"What? N… What kind of question is that?"

"You're totally changing the subject. Have you ever seen them do it? I mean, like, ever?"

"That doesn't mean they don't do it."

"How do you know?"

"Because… You know what, this is ridiculous. I'm not going to argue with you."

"And I'm transferring to Squad 3."

Karl heard the conversation between the two soldiers behind him. As much as he knew he should be focusing on the road ahead of him, he was inclined to agree with Cherry. While Squad 3 did in fact have to clear mine fields, they weren't sent on as many high risk missions. Lucky number 7 always seemed to get the unlucky draw. A transfer didn't seem like such a bad idea.

He held the mine detector out in front of him, but he doubted it would be very useful. The street was concrete, and anti-tank or anti-personnel mines the Imperials had set would have been set above ground, making them easily visible if you knew to look out for them. Still, the detector gave him a sense of security he wouldn't have felt otherwise. Whether or not it was actually productive was irrelevant.

Ahead of the group, the Edelweiss trudged along through the center of the road. It had taken the engineers of Squad 7 half an hour to figure out how to mount the mine flail on the vehicle, and it had taken the makeshift pilot fifteen more to figure out how to start the thing up. However, once it got going, it worked like a charm. Slowly, the Edelweiss advanced down the street, metal chains rotating ahead of it and slamming fist sized weights onto the street below. As the weights struck a mine, the explosive detonated harmlessly ahead of the tank. The vehicle couldn't move quickly, but it outpaced the soldiers on each side of the road, and had to stop to wait for them every fifty meters or so.

While the Edelweiss could take care of all the anti-tank mines on the road, the paths on either side would have to be cleared by hand, and they were loaded with anti-personnel mines. Thankfully, they weren't hidden very well. In fact, Karl thought it was almost a waste of time to place them. Never the less, they had to be disarmed. "Coming up on one, straight ahead." Karl passed the mine detector to Nadine.

"You got this one covered, Karl?" Nadine didn't bother sweeping the ground with the detector.

"Yeah. I want to check out how this thing works." As afraid of combat as Karl was, he found that curiosity was getting the best of him. He'd worked with some interesting chemicals in Fouzen, but nothing that could neutralize explosives. Stepping forward, he crouched down over the mine. "Pass me one of those charges."

Nadine pulled one of the bricks out of her pack and handed it over to Karl. Carefully, he placed it on the side of the trap as far away from the triggering mechanism as he possibly could. When he was satisfied, he sat back. "It's all set. Tell everyone to step back. I'll arm it when they're pulled back."

"Sure." Leaving Karl with the mine, Nadine singled for the rest of the platoon to keep their distance. "All set to arm, Karl."

"Alright… Carfully…" The charge had a 15 second fuse. That would give him more than enough time to fall back and let the explosive crack the mine case. _Click. _There. Run. He didn't hesitate. Springing up, Karl sprinted towards the rest of the Platoon. He made it with 7 seconds to spare. After a short wait, the charge detonated. The force of the explosion was channeled through the bottom of the brick. He couldn't see the result of the blast, but Karl could tell that the mine hadn't gone off.

"So… Do we go check it out?" Nadine began to walk forward.

"Hold up. Give it a few more seconds, just to be safe." Karl waited. After half a minute of nothing, he stepped forward. "Let's go. Nadine, DETA. The rest of you stay here."

The two engineers walked back up to the mine. There was a clear gash in the casing where the charge had been placed. Grabbing the bottle of the chemical, Karl unscrewed the cap. "I guess we just pour it on."

"Yeah, go for it."

As Karl tilted the bottle, the reddish brown liquid seeped into the mine. Karl could hear a sizzling sound coming from inside the device. "Sounds like it's working."

Nadine squinted her eyes. Nothing looked different. "We might want to test it to be sure."

"Good call." Falling a safe distance away from the mine, the two engineers picked up a piece of rubble. Karl tossed it at the mine. The large stone struck the explosive. Nothing happened. It had worked. "Hm. That stuff got the job done good."

"Well, Karl."

"Excuse me?"

Nadine looked up at Karl. "Well. Things don't get jobs done 'good'. They get them done 'well'."

"I…" Boom. The Edelweiss's flail struck another mine. "Yeah, alright. It got the job done well."

"That's better." Smiling, Nadine began to move forward again. "Shame though. All this training and we don't even need to use the sweeper."

"Suits me just fine, actually. Why would they set up all these mines in the open though? Just to slow us down a bit? Doesn't make too much sense. And we haven't seen any Imps around. Something's not right about this."

"Maybe we're just lucky."

"Maybe… Coming up on another."

As the two engineers prepared to disable the next mine, the rest of the section waited behind. Without any targets to shoot at, they'd been pretty useless. "Hey," Herbert said. "Why am I stuck holding the dog?"

"What's the matter," Catherine replied. "Don't like dogs?"

"I like dogs fine when they sit still. This guy keeps tugging at the leash. I don't want to hold him, it takes too much work."

Ted jumped in. "I'll take him off your hands."

"You touch that dog and I'll shoot you myself." Ted didn't turn towards the voice. His stomach still hurt from his previous beating.

Catherine put a hand on Herbert's shoulder. "Everyone else needs their hands on their weapons, Nielsen. You know that."

Herbert kicked the ground around his feet. "What about me?"

"You're an engineer. If the mines weren't so easy to see you'd be up front with the dog anyway. Just hold onto him, alright?"

"Yeah, fine."

Catherine smiled, but before she could throw in a few words of encouragement she felt a tap at the back of her shoulder. Turning, she saw that it was Cezary. "Regard. Something you need."

"We need to talk. Alone."

Looking, she could tell something was bothering the other sniper. "Sure." Pulling him aside, Catherine brought him behind the rest of her platoon. "What's the matter?"

"Three buildings ahead of us on the other side of the road. Don't look. Someone's watching us from the second story window."

It took all of her effort to keep herself from looking. Instead, she decided to trust Cezary's judgment. "Imperial?"

"Can't tell. He's not in a uniform, but he seemed to be trying really hard not to get picked out. I skimmed over him. Don't think he knows I saw him." Boom. Another mine.

"Alright, good. We can't let anyone else know. If people start looking for him he'll know we've spotted him. Give me one second." Catherine walked back to her platoon. Taking the radio from off of Ramsey's back, she returned to Cezary's side. "Captain Varrot is with Squad 1 setting up a temporary headquarters. I'm going to call Captain Patterson for advice. In the meantime, do you see any potential firing positions?"

Cezary looked around. "Yeah. I'll hop into one of the buildings on this side of the road when he isn't looking. That should do."

"Get it done. If you're cleared to fire, I'll raise my left hand and wave it in the air. Keep an eye out for it."

"Yes, sir." Cezary left her side. She began to work the radio.

"Echo Actual, this is Seven-Two – We've sighted a suspected enemy spotter, please advise, over."

"Seven-Two, this is Echo Actual – What exactly is your situation? Over."

Catherine recalled Cezary's report. "Seven-Two – There's a man watching us from a building across the street. He's trying really hard not to be seen. We suspect he may be an Imperial spotter. What's the ROE say? Over."

There was a slight pause. "Echo Actual – We're going to consult further up the line, please hold. Out to you."

Putting the handset down, Catherine walked back up to her platoon. "How's your equipment working up here?"

"Pretty good, sir," Karl replied.

"Well, Karl."

Karl ignored Nadine's correction. "If we keep up at this pace, we should be to the end of the field within about 45 minutes. We think it only goes up to that gate up ahead." He pointed at a makeshift gate the Imperials had set up to block the road. He didn't quite understand that either. A tank could mow through it without even having to slow down.

"Carry on then. Don't get careless." Catherine turned to Herbert. "How's the dog doing?"

"Still bugging out on me. You sure nobody else can hold him?"

"Yeah. Keep on him." She returned to the radio. Two minutes later, she got her response.

"Seven-Two, this is Echo Actual – Radio check, over."

"Echo Actual, this is Seven-Two – You are loud and clear, over."

"Roger Seven Two – We just got off the line with battalion. The Imperials want to keep a good standing with the locals so they provided an evacuation for civilians just before the invasion began. ROE says you're clear to fire on any non-friendly personnel you encounter, uniformed or not, over."

Catherine didn't find that convincing enough. "Roger Echo Actual – Is it possible that there are still civilians in the area? I'm not sure everyone would go along with an Imperial led evac, over."

"Possible Seven-Two, but intelligence reports a large chunk of the remaining population has left. I'll let you use your judgment on this one, out."

Weigh the options. Option one: Don't shoot. Possibly save a civilian, but put the entire Squad at risk. Option two: Shoot. Possibly kill a civilian, but keep the Squad safe. For a minute she thought it over and reached a decision. Civilians don't watch minefields, and they should be evacuated anyway. He had to be a spotter. _Nobody puts my soldiers at risk. _Catherine raised her left arm and waved it through the air. A few seconds later, the sound of a rifle discharge filled the air. In front of her, the rest of the Platoon dropped to the ground. "Don't worry. That was ours. Imp spotter across the street. Keep on those mines."

After forty minutes of creeping down the street, Squad 7 approached the gate. The Edelweiss had been waiting for the better part of twenty minutes. O'Hara's team was defusing the last mine. They were all clear. "That should just about do it. Landzatt, Nadine… Good work. Finish up that last one and meet us back at the convoy. We'll all move forward as a group. The rest of you, we'll start back now." Catherine waved her platoon back. All of her soldiers started their return to the convoy… Except for Herbert. The dog wouldn't follow him. He pulled on the leash.

"Stupid mutt… Marina, your dog's being…" As Herbert tugged at the animal, the dog spun around and bit him. Screaming, he dropped the leash. Tail wagging, Conner ran forward and sat in front of the doorway of the house just before the gate.

Karl looked to where the dog sat. "Hey Wulfstan… That's the response, right?"

"Yeah, that's it."

"I'm going to go check it out. Leaving the last mine to Nadine, Karl walked up to the door. Giving the dog a quick pat, he reached out to the handle.

"Stop!" Wendy Cheslock ran forward. "Don't touch that door."

Karl paused. "What's the matter?"

"Could be rigged. Let me take care of it."

Stepping away, Karl dropped his hand away from the door handle. "And what do you know about this stuff?"

"More than you." Instead of walking to the door, she stopped at the building's first window. After inspecting the frame, she shattered the glass with the butt of her gun. "Wait out here." Flicking some broken glass out of the way, Wendy hoisted herself through.

Karl walked up to the broken window. The building was dark inside. "You see anything in there?"

"Not yet." Maybe the dog was crazy. "Eyes adjusting. Still looking around for… Wait."

"What?"

"Wires."

Karl adjusted his glasses. "What to?" He couldn't see her inside.

"Uh… Some to the door. Don't touch it. Some more through the walls… Some to the gate outside… Oh."

"Oh? Oh what?"

Her monotone voice went up an octave. "It's beautiful."

Beautiful. Beautiful was good. "Safe?"

"No. Pull everyone back and call Homer up here."

That killed that hope. "How far?"

"All the way," she said. A second later she reappeared in the window frame. "It's a bomb."

"There's a bomb in the building?"

She shook her head. "No. It _is _the building."

Karl stared. He hadn't heard that right. "What?"

"Building contained improvised explosive device. Little bit of everything." Wendy smiled. "It'd probably blow half the block if it went off."

How was she so calm? Mouth gaping, Karl turned to the rest of the platoon. "Pull back! All the way to the convoy! Peron, get up here!"

From the other side of the street, Homer ran to where Wendy and Karl were standing. "Sir?"

"I called you, Homer," Wendy said. "You're the only one in the Squad who took bomb disposal training, right?"

"How did you know that?"

Wendy rested her arm on the window sill. "We've got a job here. You can help me."

"Wendy, you're a shock trooper." Karl was eager to get away from the building. "We need to get out of here and let Homer handle this."

"Trust me," she said. "I know more about this than he does. If I were getting paid I'd bet you a month's salary."

Homer slung his rifle over his shoulder and prepared to jump up through the window. "It's alright Karl. I'll make sure Miss Wendy works this out."

He didn't like the idea, but there didn't seem to be any arguing. "Alright. I'll leave you Nadine's radio. You need anything, call." Karl began to walk back to the convoy. Before he left, Wendy stopped him.

"Sir. That person Cezary shot… He's probably got some kind of detonator on him. Take care of it on your way back."

How could she know? "I'll look into it."

As Karl walked off, Wendy helped Homer through the window. "Big bomb, Miss Wendy?"

"Huge."

Homer smiled. "Sounds fun."

"Hee hee, yeah. It's wonderful." Together, the two disappeared into the building and began to work.

* * *

Next Engagement: Thanatos

Huge thanks to **Exum** for the mine flail idea. That one was too good to pass up, and actually made things a lot easier. Thanks again.


	13. Thanatos

**Engagement 13: Thanatos**

With her utilities top resting in a heap at the corner of the room, Wendy kneeled over the explosives in her standard black undershirt. Examining the device, she took a puff of her cigarette and sent the smoke floating through the room. It was the most beautiful thing Homer had seen in his entire life. In the dimly lit room, the cherry of the woman's cigarette glowed a dark red, barely lighting her face – and the explosives below it – every time she inhaled. In the glow Homer could see something else as well. A complete disregard for safety. He was enthralled. "Miss Wendy, should you be smoking that so close to those explosives?"

"No, probably not."

"Oh." She was wonderful.

"Keeps me alert. Calm."

"Oh."

"Just oh?"

It was all he could think to say in the face of such self destruction. "Yeah. Oh." As it turned out, the building didn't hold one big explosive. Instead, it held four smaller ones. They were all linked together to create one massive unit. That unit was also hooked up to a smaller explosive outside; an Imperial S-mine. Just behind the gate, it would have been impossible to detect until it was too late. The mine was buried in the ground in a place where the road had been dug out. When the gate was opened or knocked down, it would have struck one of the three prongs sticking out of the top of the mine. A few seconds later, the propelling charge would have gone off, sending the mine flying to about waist height before detonating and sending a wall of shrapnel in all directions. However, the actual detonation would have been irrelevant. The propelling charge had been daisy chained to the four explosives in the building, and the whole unit would have gone off. Thankfully, Conner had been able to detect the bombs before the gate had been touched.

Homer had never seen anything like it. The bombs had been thrown together in a hurry using anything the Imperials had on hand at the time. In their rush to fortify the city, it seemed the Imperials couldn't scrounge up their usual assortment of high tech military defenses and resorted to using whatever they could to keep the Gallians at bay. These explosives were mainly composed of ragnite charges. A few artillery shells and conventional explosives had been thrown into the mix as well, but they were few and far between. Regardless, the four main explosives would have to be disarmed individually. Homer had never seen an entire house rigged to explode. Wendy said she had. Once. She didn't go into any detail.

"Hey, Miss Wendy… Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead," she said as she reached for Homer's pair of wire cutters.

"How do you know so much about explosives? I went through training and I still don't know this much."

Snip. "I've got a master's degree in chemistry." Snip. "Used to make bombs for a living." Snip.

"Wait… You went to school?"

"Yeah. Fouzen University."

"And you got a master's degree?"

"Yep." She put the cutters down and pulled the cigarette out of her mouth. Taking a long draw, she sat back to admire her work.

"Oh. We all thought… Well…"

"Thought what?"

Homer remembered the beatings Edy had given him over the past couple of days. Would Wendy be the same way? He thought that might not be a bad thing.

"That you might be retarded or something."

The punch never came. Homer was only slightly disappointed. "No." Once again she picked up the wire cutters.

There wasn't a whole lot Homer could do to help her. In fact, other than hand her his tools and providing supervision, he wasn't doing much. "So you produced bombs after you got your degree?"

"Yes. Military research department. Built lots of bombs. They were pretty cool."

"So why are you in the militia now? Weren't you working for the military before?"

"Got fired." Snip. "Spent too much time working on my own projects." Puff. "Mine were better. They didn't like em'. Too unstable."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Pass me the screwdriver?"

Homer followed her request. "How's the bomb going?"

"Almost done. Grab your stuff, we'll move on to the next right about…" Snip. "Now."

One down. Three to go. Homer gathered his equipment and followed Wendy through the corridor. The second bomb was in a small room on the other side of the house. Setting his equipment down, they continued their work. "Miss Wendy… Can I ask you something else?"

"Go ahead."

"When we were outside the house, you said that if you were getting paid for this you would bet a month's salary. What did you mean? Is the Militia not paying you?"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

Wendy put the wire cutters down. Throwing the butt of her cigarette to the ground, she smothered it with her boot and pulled a fresh one out of her pack. After lighting it and taking a full draw, she picked the cutters back up. "After I got fired I continued working on the explosives I was making out of my house. I didn't have a lab, so I did it all in my kitchen. One day I got a bad mix. Blew up my house. I was out grocery shopping at the time. When I came back, the place was swarming with Ministry of Defense officers. Seems they don't like people making explosives at home."

"Oh."

"They said I could serve off my term with eight years in the Militia or do 30 years plus in Her Majesty's prison in Randgriz. I went with the service."

She was a criminal. Somehow, that made sense. "So why are you a shock trooper? You know more about this kind of stuff than any engineer I've ever met."

"Wanted to be one. They wouldn't let me."

"You're a shock trooper though. Isn't that kind of cool? Having so many people shoot at you sounds exciting."

Once more Wendy took the cigarette out of her mouth. The smoke from the breath she'd just inhaled lingered in the air. "No… Not really. Kind of lame. Hurts to shoot people… To get shot."

"Wouldn't know." Homer was disappointed. In all of his time in the service, he'd never been wounded in combat. Bullets seemed to change course around him. To borrow Wendy's words, it was kind of lame.

"You're lucky." She continued with the cutters. After a moment, she paused again. "What about you? Draftee?"

"No. At least, not by Gallia."

"You were drafted, but not by Gallia?"

Homer gave out a quiet laugh. "Yeah. By Elysse."

"How'd that work out?"

"Her father was my fencing instructor. She was my sparring partner. Elysse might not look like much, but give her an epee and a few minutes to warm up and she'll cover you in bruises. It was… fun."

Wendy smiled. "So you did it for a girl?"

"Yeah. Well, no. Not like that. I mean, she…"

"No, I get you," she cut in. "Screwdriver."

Homer passed Wendy the tool. The second bomb was almost disarmed. "Here. But yeah, we're just good friends. When she went down the other day I didn't know what to do. I would rather it have been me." He had to admit that his wish wasn't completely selfless.

"Worried about her, eh? She's fine. How about that Edy girl? You've been talking with her since Elysse went down. She going to be jealous?"

Homer slid his hand through his hair. "She's no reason to be. Edy's been the one talking to me. I think she just wants someone to beat up on though. Give her some attention."

"And you're alright with that?"

"Yeah. She's a bit blunt with her punishment though. I prefer Elysse's finesse."

Wendy shrugged. "I guess. So you volunteered to follow Elysse?"

"That's about right." To his surprise, Wendy laughed. "What's funny?"

"For a country with a mandatory draft, it seems like everyone's a volunteer."

"Oh."

Snip. Two down. Standing up, Wendy tugged at her undershirt's collar. The t-shirt's material was light, but it came up like a short turtleneck. Her concentration made the confined space in the room even tighter, and the undershirt wasn't helping matters. When Homer had gathered his tools, they continued to the third bomb. "You want to pop the lid on that one, Homer?"

"Yes, Miss Wendy. Right away."

Still standing, Wendy pulled out another cigarette. Raising her lighter to its end, she inhaled and let out the first breath of smoke. "I know you said you were just friends with Elysse, but have you ever thought about it?"

With the screwdriver, Homer began prying the top of the casing off of the bomb. "You mean with Elysse? I don't know. I mean, we're close and all, but I don't know if…" Pop. The top of the casing came off, and with it came a small metal block. Curious, Homer picked it up off of the ground.

Looking up from her cigarette, Wendy observed the object he'd just lifted. "Hm… What is that?"

"It… looks like a magnet."

"A magnet?"

"Yeah. A magnet."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh."

* * *

Although only two of the four explosives detonated, the explosion was still powerful enough to completely destroy the building and the two on either side. Debris and parts of the buildings were sent flying through the street, and some of the smaller pieces flew far enough to nearly strike the convoy. It took half an hour for the dust to settle enough to send a recon unit through, but once it was clear the unit didn't have any trouble assessing the damage. All things accounted for, it would take about eight hours to clear the road and another possible three to repair the damages enough to move the vehicles down it.

Back at the head of the convoy, Welkin Gunther stood with Captain Patterson and looked down the road towards where the explosion had gone off. Counting the two he'd just lost, Squad 7 had had 6 soldiers killed since the start of the Marberry operation – Including his own sister. Raising his hands to his head, he put his officer's cap back on. "What do we do from here, sir?"

"Well, we have to clear the road first." Captain Patterson stoked his chin. He hadn't been able to shave in the past three days. "It'll take the rest of the night, at least. We passed a hotel about a block back. I'll let you guys occupy it for the night. Get rested. We'll clear the road, but it's still going to be a long day tomorrow."

"Yes, sir." Sleep sounded amazing, but the city was still filled with the sounds of fighting. In the distance, the low rumble of artillery shells filled the air. He couldn't see the rounds hit, but their flashes were just visible over the houses on either side of the road. "Have you had any luck contacting Captain Varrot?"

"Yes. You're officially attached to Echo Company at least until we take that park. Maybe longer. We'll see when we get there."

"Yes, sir."

"Have you worked with the Army often?"

Squad 7 hadn't, but they'd heard enough stories to know it was usually best to keep a good distance. He left that part out. "No, sir."

Patterson dropped his hand from his chin. "Well, we're not all bad." Welkin wondered if his expression had given him away. "In any case, we're stuck together for the time being. Gather your Squad and get some sleep. We'll need you tomorrow."

"Yes, sir. I'll make sure we're well rested."

"Good. And by the way, Lieutenant Gunther?"  
"Sir?"

"I'm sorry about your men."

"Thank you." He meant it, but it didn't come out as sincere as he'd hoped it would. Isara's death was still wearing on him, and their recent losses just compounded on that. "I'm going to gather my Squad. I'll report back in the morning." After a half hearted "good night", Welkin left Patterson's side. At the very least the Squad would have a place to rest their heads for the evening. He hoped that their first night in the city would go considerably better than their first day had.

* * *

Next Engagement: Goodnight Moon


	14. Goodnight Moon

**Engagement 14: Goodnight Moon**

It wasn't a fancy hotel, but it had a roof and it had beds, and that was all that mattered. For the past four days the grunts of Squad 7 had slept wherever they'd been able to stop for the night, which meant they'd slept outside or on the floors of makeshift barracks. A real bed went a long way in combat, and the hotel was full of them.

Because Squad 7 took the brunt of the day's work, Echo Company volunteered to manage the road's cleanup and repair and let the Militia Squad rest through the night. With three floors and sixty rooms, the hotel could easily fit the entire Squad. Although there were enough rooms for everyone to have their own, most of the Squad members broke off into groups of three or four and found a place that could fit everyone. After a day of fighting, they were all glad for the company – At least Audrey was. As one of the newest members of Squad 7, she was glad to have made friends before her first taste of combat.

Born and raised in Vasel, Audrey Heitinga had never intended on enlisting. In fact, when the Empire invaded in March, joining the fight was about the farthest thing from her mind. Even when the Imperials had taken Vasel itself Audrey was content to sit back and watch. That all changed when Squad 7 rolled through to retake the city. On the morning of the attack, she was woken by the sound of gunfire outside the front of her home. She looked out her window just in time to witness two Imperials firing at a Gallian tank – A tank that was somehow emerging from the river. Before she could see how the fight ended, her parents drug her into the family's basement. Although she couldn't actually watch the battle outside, her mind never left the tank. It was only later that she'd found out the vehicle belonged to the son of the First Europan War hero Belgen Gunther.

In the following days, Audrey learned all she could about Squad 7 and their mysterious tank. Thankfully, the information came easily. Some reporter named Irene Ellet had embedded herself within the Squad, and Audrey read every shred of information the reporter published. After hearing about the 7's victory in the forests of Kloden, she'd made up her mind. She would become a 7 herself or die trying. Without a second thought, Audrey walked into the nearest recruitment office and swore her oath of service. The rest fell into place. As luck would have it, she finished Tactical Combat Infantry Training just after Squad 7 returned from Fouzen. Having taken casualties, the Squad was looking for fresh boots, and Audrey fit the bill. Within a week of the Squad's return, she found herself in Ramona's 4th section. She'd made it into the 7's.

Removing her BDU top, Audrey looked around the room. It was small, but it was the perfect fit for the trio who'd occupied it. Slipping her arm through the sleeve of the uniform, she tossed it into the corner of the room next to Cherry's and Ramona's. They were still in a combat zone, so boots and pants had to stay on, but they were allowed to drop the tops for the night. "Feels good to have your arms free, huh?"

"Yeah, tell me about it," Cherry said. "That uniform's totally getting on my nerves."

Ramona took a seat on the floor and leaned back on the foot of one of the beds. "The uniform's fine, it just hasn't been washed in four days. It's so… disgusting."

"Ugh. It's just covered in dirt and grime."

"And blood." The blood from the Imperial patrolman Ramona had stabbed still stained her sleeve. Every look down reminded her of the attack… Of the blood gushing from the gaping wound in the man's neck… Of the horrible gurgling sound he'd made as she kicked the back of his knee in… Of the…

"I actually don't mind it most of the time." Audrey crossed her arms on her knees. "Shows I'm part of the group, you know? And the dirt just shows I'm pulling my weight."

"I guess. I just wish pulling weight wasn't so messy. Anyway, the real problem is the damned boots. Haven't taken these things off for any real time since we landed, and my feet were just healing from Barious."

"Please don't remind me," Cherry said. "I can already feel the blisters."

"I'd be more worried about lesions…"

Audrey looked down at her own boots. "It… gets that bad?"

"This is your first action, right?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, it gets that bad."

Best not to think about it. Instead, Audrey began to rummage through her pack. Moving a few pairs of socks and some shotgun shells aside, she pulled out a small tin of crackers her mother had sent her in her last care package. The crackers were becoming stale, but they were something to chew on. Taking one of them out of the tin, she began to nibble.

Across the room, Cherry was sitting with her back resting on the wall. With one leg extended, she rested her right arm on the knee of the other. "I'm just mad the water got shut off here. I was hoping we could get a shower or something."

Ramona pulled a strand of hair in front of her face. "Four days without a shower is a crime."

"Yeah."

"They should hang people for this."

"Totally."

"You're just going to agree with everything I say, aren't you Cherry?"

"Ye… Hey!"

Ramona and Audrey laughed as Cherry turned as red as her namesake. As she settled down, Audrey put the cracker tin back into her pack. Closing the bag, she looked back at Ramona. "Hey Ramona, you were in _Gallian Girl_, weren't you?"

The girl couldn't hide her smile. "A couple of times, yeah."

"And you were in that skirt issue a while back, right?"

"That's right."

Audrey looked down at Ramona's pants. "So why don't you wear the skirt uniform bottom? I mean, you're tall… long legs…"

She was surprised when Ramona cringed. "I wore that thing during boot. Never again."

"What was wrong with it?"

"You ever take a look at Susie's legs after a battle? They're completely streaked black. If I'm getting dirty, I'd like to at least keep the dirt on my pants, not my actual legs." While the dirt really did bother her, her given answer wasn't the whole truth. Boot camp had done more than teach Ramona the basics of soldiering. Over the weeks of learning how to shoot and enduring physical training, her build had changed from slight to athletic. While she liked the change herself, and she was far from being a Rosina Selden, she still wasn't completely confident in how she would look to others and decided it might be best to keep her legs covered for a while.

"Never thought about that. Guess it makes sense."

"Course it does. Part of fashion is functionality. Don't forget that."

"Right!"

"Still, you always have to look your best…" Ramona looked at her hands. The base of her right thumb nail was bruised, creating a dark splotch at the end of her finger.

Cherry traced her friend's gaze. "Sorry, I'm out of nail polish. Guess you're SOL."

"Guess so…"

"That's the one thing I've hated since becoming a 7," Audrey said. "Everything's so dirty all the time. Your uniform, your equipment, you. I never expected war to be so… messy."

"Yep. It's a real pain in the ass how often you have to…"

Ramona was interrupted by a knock on the door. A moment later, the door opened and Rosie Stark walked into the room. Still in her full uniform, Rosie glanced over the occupants one by one. "Evenin' girls. Just thought I'd swing by and check up on you. I didn't hear you two complaining about dirt, did I?"

Ramona and Audrey looked at each other. After a moment, Audrey turned her head towards Rosie. "We were just saying…"

"Sir!" Cherry jumped up and gave Rosie a full salute. "The Corporal and Private Heitinga were saying that war was too dirty for their tastes. I was just telling them that as Militiamen, it's totally their duty to suck it up, sir!"

"That's my girl, Stijnen," Rosie said with a smile. "Seriously, you two need to take a page out of her book. If I had twenty Cherrys, this war would be over in a week."

"But Rosie," Ramona replied, "that's not…"

"Don't 'but Rosie' me, Ramona. You're a Corporal. You should be the one telling Cherry to 'suck it up', not the other way around." Cherry was smiling from ear to ear. "And Audrey – you're new, but that's no excuse. Militiamen can't be afraid of a little dirt. Let this be a lesson to you." Once more, Rosie looked to Cherry. "Keep up the good work, Cherry. Make sure these girls sort themselves out."

"Yes sir!"

"That's what I like to hear." Rosie took a step back, but didn't leave. Instead, she looked back down at Ramona. "I didn't come here to yell at you all though. How are you doing?"

Ramona swept a loose strand of hair back behind her ear. "I'm doing fine. Don't worry."

"You know Wendy wasn't your fault, right?"

"Yeah, I know."

"Good. Stijnen, make sure these two get to bed at a reasonable hour. Can't have them up all night."

"Yes sir!"

Rosie nodded and began walking out of the room. "On the ball as always. G'night, ladies." A moment later the door shut behind her. The three girls listened as her footsteps faded. When they were gone, Audrey looked around the room. After a moment, she locked eyes with Ramona.

"What just happened?"

"I don't…" Slowly, Ramona turned her head to face Cherry. The girl was still smiling. "Hey, Cherry?"

"Yes, Ramona?"

"You can be a real bitch sometimes, ya know that?"

Cherry winked. "Everything's in the timing…"

* * *

Alone at last. After putting up 3rd section's incessant squabbling and annoyances for the past day, being alone was a relief. Finally, Nils Daerden could find a place for himself and sleep the night away without anyone pestering him. Walking down the dimly lit third floor hallway, he'd scoped out the perfect room; the one in the far back corner of the hotel. The rest of the Squad had been either too tired or too lazy to search out the hotel, so the third floor remained largely unoccupied. That suited him just fine. After a bit of a stroll, he made it to the end of the hall. There wasn't any light coming out from under the door of choice. _Good. It's empty._

Opening the door, Nils stepped in and took a look around. It was a smaller room, but that was alright. One person wouldn't need a lot of space, and the tightness would keep things cozy. Smiling a little, he walked deeper into the room. There was a small dresser to his left, a nightstand next to the bed on his right, an interesting looking…

"What are you doing here?"

Instinctively, Nils reached back for his shotgun. Before he could draw the weapon, he came to his senses and searched out the voice. Just under the room's only window, he could see the reflection of one eye just below the bottom of the frame and two smaller eyes near the floor. "Great. You. I was hoping this room was open."

"It's not."

"Yeah, I can see that." As his eyes adjusted, Nils began to make out details. In the dark, he could barely make out Marina's figure sitting on the floor below the window. Conner's head rested on her lap. "Thought that guy was coming back for the mutt."

"He got held up."

"Wonderful. Now we're stuck dog-sitting." If there was anything worse than babysitting a unit it was babysitting animals. The Squad had finally moved into the city – his turf – and they _still _had to work with beasts. As if Hans wasn't enough…

"What do you want, Nils?"

Nils took a seat on the edge of the bed. "This room, actually. Damn shame… I walk in and find the Sniper Bitch beat me to it. That's what they're calling you now, you know. The Sniper Bitch."

"And?"

"Just wanted to know what you thought of that." Putting his pack aside, Nils laid back on the bed. He had to admit, it was pretty comfortable.

"I don't."

"Really? Probably for the best. A bit of a reputation like that might not actually be a bad thing. I think they've got you all wrong though. If it were up to me, I'd have just called you a cu—"

"What are you still doing here?"

With a sigh, Nils sat back up. From his breast pocket he pulled out a pack of cigarettes. "Can't a section leader and her assistant have a meeting every once in a while? Not that I want to talk to a bitch like you…" Standing, he put one of the cigarettes to his mouth and lit it.

"I'd rather not… Hey. Put that thing out."

Nils took a draw of the cigarette and sent the smoke floating all over the room. "Look, woman. You can give me orders on the field, but when it comes down to my own personal business, you've got no right butting in."

"I do when it will save your life."

Nils stared down at her. "What the Hell are you talking about?"

"If a sniper sees that thing burning in here through the window, he'll target it and blow your head clean off."

Taking the cigarette out of his mouth, Nils looked out the window. "You guys can do that?"

"I've done it before."

Grumbling, Nils threw the cigarette to the ground and smothered it. "Didn't think you cared."

"I don't, but I plan on sleeping here, and I'd hate to have to clean your body off of the floor first." At that, Nils chuckled at his own expense. "Besides, if you go down who else is going to get anything done? Hannes is down to about fifty percent with his arm full of shrapnel, and the only other person doing his job is the fucking animal abuser."

"Who?"

"Ustinov. You saw how he had the rest of the group lined up when we dropped behind. Then he admonishes _us _for not doing our job. Humiliating…"

"Yeah. That was probably a low point for the day."

Marina's eye never moved below the frame. "And how the Hell did we mess up so bad today? Two dead in one firefight. If I were better this wouldn't have happened."

"Yeah, probably not." Thankfully, it was too dark for Nils to see if she was glaring at him or not. The dark did have its benefits. "You want my advice?"

"No."

"It might help if you actually got to know some of the Squad members. Learn how they function, so to speak."

"I give orders and they follow. That's all anyone needs to know."

Though it would be tough to tell in the darkness of the room, Nils shook his head. "No, it's not. You would have known Clement didn't take care of her weapon for one." Marina didn't respond. Outside, Nils could see the light of explosions going off throughout the city. Moments later, the muffled sounds of the blasts reached his ears. "Did you know Jung wanted to open a casino in Randgriz? Would have been the first of its kind in Gallia. Brilliant idea, actually. Probably would have made him a millionaire."

"So?"

"Just thought you might have wanted to know."

"I don't. He's dead. What's it matter?"

Once again, Nils sighed. "I guess it doesn't. The point is if you don't know the people working for you, the things you don't know about them are going to spring up and bite you in the ass."

"And you know this from personal experience?"

"Actually, yes. I do. If you don't get on them, they're going to get on you. And you _will_ fail."

"Didn't think you cared."

Nils picked up his pack. "I don't. I just don't want your job." After gathering his equipment, he began to make his way out of the room. "One more word of advice, though."

"What?"

"Ditch the dog. As I've said, you've made a bit of a reputation for yourself. It'd be a shame if people saw you with him and started to think you were going soft."

"Fuck off."

Nils shrugged. "Guess that works too." Exiting the room, he let the door swing shut behind him before he went off in search of another free bed.

* * *

Next Engagement: Mail Call


	15. Mail Call

**Engagement 15: Mail Call**

_The first ten or so minutes before they charged were always the hardest. After those few minutes passed, you could pick up your rifle and defend yourself. You could do something. Until then, you waited as the world exploded around you. As long as the shells were falling, that was all there was to do. Wait and hope you weren't hit. So that's what she did. Ironically, it wasn't the noise that scared her. The noise scared a lot of soldiers – even those who'd been in the trenches far longer than she had – but she knew better. It was the silence in between the blasts that terrified her. Imperial shells exploded with an explosive velocity of about 7000 meters per second. Sound traveled at about 340. If you got hit, you'd be dead long before you heard the shell that did it. Each blast told her she wasn't dead. The ones who were killed straight out wouldn't even know. Then again, maybe they were the lucky ones. It had only taken her once to watch a man get hit and __not die instantly to realize that getting hit so badly that there wasn't anything left to bury might not be such a bad alternative._

_Lying in the dirt, she pressed herself as close to the ground as she possibly could and curled herself into a ball. There was less surface area that way. Usually they were in the trenches. The trenches at least had small shelters that soldiers could cram into to protect them from the artillery barrage, but no man's land didn't provide protection. If anything happened, it was about the worst place in the world to be, and it was exactly where she was. After the Gallians shelled the Imperials themselves, they stormed out of their own trenches and attempted to take some ground. The charge failed, and before they could make it back to the safety of their own trench the Imperials began a shelling of their own. Anything still moving above ground didn't have a hope of surviving, so craters from previous shellings would have to do for cover. Unlike lightning, though, sometimes shells _did _strike the same place twice. Luckily, she was an optimist._

_Overhead, she could hear a shell screaming high and clear. It was going to be close. A second later, it struck the ground just outside the crater. She didn't see an explosion – her eyes were closed – but she felt the mud and dirt the shell struck up as it hit spray over her inside the crater. She didn't feel any pain, and she heard the next shell go off in the distance. Still alive. Clenching her rifle, she continued to wait for the Hell to pass. Before she knew it, it did. Slowly opening her eyes, she could see the dirt, dust, and smoke that the shelling kicked up still lingering in the air. Crawling up to the lip of the crater, she supported her rifle on the ground and aimed at the Imperial trench. Any second they would start to pour out._

_Behind her, she could hear footsteps. Almost rolling, someone else dropped into her crater. "Private O'Hara, you alright?"_

_She recognized the voice. "Corporal Caird. I'm fine, sir." Slowly, the man crawled next to her and readied his own rifle._

_"Good. Everyone's scattered, so we're all on our own. Just keep shooting as they come out and we'll be alright."_

_"Yes sir." She checked her equipment. All she had was her LE III bolt action rifle and seven ten round magazines. It would be enough. Placing her finger on the weapon's trigger, she waited._

_The Imperials didn't disappoint her. Moments later, a whistle blew from inside their trench, and they began their attack. Coby's rifle cracked next to her. He was more experienced, and knew how to place shots better than she did. His shot struck its target in the stomach, and the man fell back into the trench. Working his bolt, Coby prepared for another shot. Catherine waited. Scanning the line, she found a good shot. Staring down her iron sights, she targeted a man running between craters. He was completely unprotected. Her weapon jumped, and her bullet took the man in the chest. That made two. O'Hara was only 15, and she'd already killed two men. She'd be lying if she said the thought hadn't crossed her mind._

_As she pulled back the bolt on her rifle, she felt a tap on her shoulder. "O'Hara! Four coming up on our left." Shifting her aim, Catherine pointed her weapon in the direction Coby had indicated. Sure enough, four Imperials were advancing on them. She put her aim on the lead soldier. _I guess the third time's a charm_. For a second time her rifle jumped, and her vision was filled with a blinding_

* * *

light. Morning already. Still only half awake, Catherine sat up in bed. For some reason she felt like she hadn't slept a wink. Must have been a bad dream. She didn't often remember them. That was probably for the better. Slipping her BDU over her undershirt, she slung her rifle over her shoulder and walked out of the hotel.

The street outside was already bustling with activity. Catherine was never one to sleep late, but most of the Squad was already outside. It looked like most of the road had been cleared, so once the finishing touches were made the convoy would begin their move again. In the middle of the road a makeshift meeting area had been set up and an officer was handing out breakfast rations. Stomachs needed ammo as well. Walking forward, O'Hara collected her ration and found a place on a stoop to eat.

Processed eggs and "toast". Delicious. With a cringe, she began stuffing the "food" down. There's no such thing as being picky on the battlefield. When she was halfway done with her eggs, she heard footsteps coming up from her left. "Staff Sergeant O'Hara, you alright sir?"

She recognized the voice. "Sergeant Caird. I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

"You just looked a little down this morning. Thought I'd check up on you."

"I don't think anyone could smile eating these things, Coby." She put another spoonful of the eggs in her mouth as the old man took a seat next to her.

"I guess not. Eggs and toast today? I was hoping for the dried cereal."

"The cereal's still your favorite?"

"Has been for all these years, kid."

"Coby, I'm 35. I don't think I qualify for 'kid' anymore."

"Nonsense. To an old codger like me you don't look a day older than you did 20 years ago." Ripping the packaging off of his MRE, Coby began his meal. "Still young and pretty as ever."

"Thank you, but I certainly hope I've grown at least a little bit since then."

Coby smiled. "Yeah," he said. "I guess you have." After taking a bite out of his toast like substance, he took a look around the street. Several groups of 7's were finishing their own meals, and some were mingling with the regular Army soldiers. "Kind of reminds you of the first war, doesn't it?"

"What does?"

"Scenes like this. A day like today… It's just like any other day back then."

"Let's hope not," Catherine said dropping her spoon. Coby set his own down.

"Still hung up on that, eh?"

"Can't forget your mistakes or you'll make them again."

"Mistake? You can't blame yourself for that. Nobody else does."

"He does."

Coby rolled his eyes. "Then he's a fool for doing so. Besides, he's just looking for an outlet."

"And maybe I deserve to be that outlet."

"That's bull and you know it. He should too. I'll bet he does, deep down. His sister knew exactly…"

"Mail call!" Catherine and Coby looked up as an officer with a large bundle walked into the middle of the street.

"Figures," Catherine said, changing the subject. "With all the trouble they have bringing up supplies and ammunition, they never seem to have a problem with bringing the mail."

"Come on, kiddo. It's good for morale."

The officer looked down at his list and began to call off names. "Abbott! Bielert! Calvey! Caird!"

Coby stood up. "That must be the grand kids. I'll be back in a few."

"Don't let me hold you up." Catherine smiled. Coby was a good friend, and she was glad he was able to keep in touch with his family even on the battlefield.

The list went on. "Landzatt! Lynn! Martens!" The O's were coming up. "Nelson! Nielsen! Peron!" Predictably, her name was skipped. She'd been expecting as much. "Peron!"

Sergeant Coren walked up to the man. "I'll hang onto that for him." Homer's. Poor kid's family wouldn't have known yet. It would probably be a couple of days before they were notified.

With his letter opened, Coby sat back down next to Catherine. "Was it the grandkids?" she asked.

"Yeah, it's them," he said smiling.

"Selden! Stark! Stijnen!"

"They doing well?"

"Yep. Aaron's starting school in the fall. Can't believe he's that old already."

"The kids grow up fast, I guess."

"Yeah, I guess they do."

"Wavy! Wordsworth! Wulfstan! York!"

Coby folded the letter and put it into his breast pocket. "Pretty soon he'll be all grown up himself."

"Hopefully the world will be a nicer place by then."

"Look on the bright side, Catherine. The world's not all bad. Don't be such a pessimist."

Catherine laughed. "Sorry, Coby. I'm sure he'll do fine."

"That's better." Coby picked up the leftovers of his breakfast. "Now, I'm going to start sorting out supplies. I've got it handled, so don't feel you need to help me. Relax and enjoy your morning."

"You know, Coby, I'm the one who's supposed to be giving the orders now."

"Ah, yes. Slips my mind sometimes, sir," he said with a smile. "I'll talk to you later." As Coby left, Catherine decided relaxing might not be a bad idea. Sitting back, she took a look around. Only one other group of soldiers was in earshot. It was a trio of girls from her own platoon.

Cherry and Audrey had stopped eating and were reading over their letters. With her hands on her chin, Ramona looked out across the street. "I don't get it," she said. "She never talks to anyone, and I mean _anyone_ outside of combat, and even when she _does _say something it's always a just bunch of orders or swearing, but she _always _gets mail. Every time."

Audrey looked up from her letter. "Huh? What are you talking about?"

"Wulfstan. She got six today. Six letters. The woman's an absolute witch to everyone and she still gets more mail than anyone else in the entire battalion. Seriously, who would want to send someone like her so much mail?"

Cherry also looked up from her letter. "You know Ramona, if you sent something out you might get something back."

"What?" She was turning red. "Cherry, that's got nothing to do with it. I'm just saying she gets…"

"Come on. You don't actually care about how much mail someone else is getting. You're just upset about how much you're not."

"Cherry, I'm not…"

"Yes you are. You're totally, like, acting stupid about it. So why don't you send something?"

"I said that's got nothing to do with it."

Cherry continued her lecture. From her position on the stoop, Catherine could hear the whole thing. It was pretty brutal. Though Catherine didn't know Ramona outside of a professional relationship, she did know that they at least one thing in common. They were the only people in the Squad who never received any mail. Standing up, Catherine repeated her oath. _Never leave a friend in need. _Smiling slightly, she walked up to the group of girls.

Audrey saw her first. "Staff Sergeant," she said as she sprung to her feet and threw a salute. Looking up, the other two girls followed suit.

"G'morning ladies. I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"No sir," Ramona replied. She was visibly relieved. "What can we do for you?"

"Just you, Corporal. Sergeant Caird is sorting out our supplies for the day. Would you go give him a hand?"

"Yes sir!"

"Thank you." She turned to the other two girls. "You two ladies are free until we move out. Just make sure you're ready to go as soon as possible." Cherry and Audrey nodded. Making sure Ramona headed off to find Coby, Catherine bid the girls a quick farewell and walked back to her stoop. The two girls weren't much older than she was back in the First European War. Cherry only had her by a year. Her mind drifted back to Homer. He'd been her age. _And now he always will be. _With a sigh, she slumped back. Squad 7 would have to take Ranquet Park today. She hoped nobody else would join him.

* * *

Next Engagement: A Walk in the Park


	16. A Walk in the Park

**Engagement 16: A Walk in the Park**

Freesia loved dancing. She liked dodging bullets quite a bit less. Unfortunately, she didn't have much of a choice. Hunkered down behind one of the 6th Armored Division's tanks, Freesia and the rest of Wavy's 1st section waited for the incoming fire to slow. Kneeling next to the tank's radiator, Freesia listened as the small arms fire of the Imperial infantry glanced and pinged off of the vehicle's armor. The ground shook as the tank fired a round at the line of infantry ahead, and a secondary explosion sounded as the projectile struck its target. And Freesia had thought the park would be a nice change of scenery…

After Squad 7 and the rest of the convoy left the hotel area, they'd met little opposition. It had taken them a just over an hour to move the remaining six blocks through the hostile city. However, that was just the beginning of the battle. Upon entering Ranquet Park, they found that the Imperials were less willing to give up their open ground than they were the streets before it. The open area of the park made it ideal for an artillery battery, and the Imperials had been using it to fire on the supply line heading into and out of the city. Those guns would have to be taken if the Gallians hoped to remain well supplied.

Unable to see from her position, Freesia slowly began to peek her head around the corner of the tank. As she neared the edge, a round struck the vehicle and ricocheted in front of her. Jerking her head back, she ducked a little lower and tried again. Ahead of the tank, the Imperials had concealed themselves in a line of trees and brush. The forested area would be too thick for the tanks to move through, which meant they would have to drive through the small pass in the middle of the Imperial line. As Freesia watched, the tank fired another round. One of the trees exploded at the trunk, and what was left of it toppled over and fell to the ground. They'd make a desert out of this place yet.

Returning to cover, she looked to her left. All across the line, the soldiers of Squad 7 and the Army Company took shelter behind any armor they could find. The open area of the park wouldn't provide any cover in itself, and there was enough fire coming from the Imperial line to cut down anyone who stepped out into the open. After a day of holding them back, the tanks were finally proving useful. However, the Imperials were well dug in, and the tanks wouldn't be able to take them out on their own. Without exposing herself, Freesia thrust her weapon around the tank and fired a volley of shots. Before the fourth went off, the ground to the left of the tank erupted in a fountain of dirt and smoke. Dropping her weapon, Freesia ducked back behind the tank.

"Don't waste your ammo, Freesia." Wavy was peeking out from the other side of the tank. "You're not going to hit anything like that."

"They're getting really close with those mortars," she said as she picked up her rifle. "If we don't do something, they're going to get a lucky shot eventually."

"Well, we can't do anything until the tanks start to move up, but once they do they'll be exposed to their lancers. So we wait until the tanks clear enough of the enemy for us to open fire." As he finished, another mortar round struck behind the group.

"Well, can't we get the Edelweiss to fire a smoke round or something?"

"Smoke works both ways, York. We fire a smoke round between us then everyone is firing blind except for the mortars. You just failed basic tactics."

Grumbling, Freesia sat back and fidgeted with her tactical gloves. The things felt like weights on her hands. She was used to feeling the dirt and sand when she put her hands to the ground, but now all she felt were the insides of the gloves. All of her military equipment just served to chain her down. With her mind on other things, she jumped when she felt a pat on her shoulder. Turning her head, she was it was Emile. "Here," he said. "Move over and let me see what I can do."

Complying, Freesia shuffled over and switched positions with the boy. Laying his combat pack on the ground at the edge of the tank, the sniper went prone and supported his rifle on the bag. After a moment of searching for a target, he fired his first shot. Sliding the weapon's bolt back, he ejected the spent casing and chambered another round. Within thirty seconds, he'd ejected five more. Still, the incoming fire came on strong. As Emile chambered his seventh round, a barrage of incoming fire struck his pack. Yelping, he rolled back to Freesia's position and watched helplessly as his pack was rocked by the Imperial's barrage. "Oh, come on!"

"Least it wasn't you," Freesia said, grabbing the back of his pack and pulling it behind the tank. Lifting it up, there were five holes torn into the side of the bag. "Anything important in there?"

_Medication._ "No. Nothing I can't replace." The ground rocked again as the tank fired another shot. After the round exploded on the Imperial line, the tank began to move forward.

Wavy waved his group forward. "We're moving up! Don't fall behind the tank; we still need it for cover. Be ready to fight when we get closer."

It was a struggle moving as a group behind the vehicle, but the unit managed. The only drawback was that they were pressed so tightly together that a single mortar round would take out the entire section if it fell in the right place. It was a tradeoff, but the cover was worth the risk. Over the din of the tank shells and mortar rounds, the Militia soldiers could still hear the small arms fire striking the tanks.

As they advanced, a mortar round fell to their right. It was closer now, and Susie and Edy were sent to the ground as the explosive went off. Quickly, Emile and Rosina helped them to their feet. "You all right?" Rosina asked.

"Yeah," Susie said. "I'm fine, I just…" The next round struck at the feet of the men behind the tank next to them. Susie screamed as a man's legs were torn out from under him and four of the other men around him were sent to the ground in a shower of debris and metal fragments. The tank didn't stop, and the men who stayed behind to help the injured were cut down.

"Just keep moving, Susie," Wavy said. "Keep to the cover and you'll be fine."

Susie's face was blank, but she kept walking. Rosina kept her hand on her shoulder, half guiding the girl along. Within a hundred feet, the tank stopped. Across the line, the tanks began to open fire with their machine guns. Down the way, the Shamrock's heavy anti-infantry weapon blazed and cut a swath across the Imperial position. Loose branches and tree limbs rained down across the tree line.

"Alright, we're good to go!" Wavy hit the ground to the left of the tank and assumed a firing position. Following his lead, the rest of the group fell to their stomachs outside of the tank's cover. While the incoming fire hadn't stopped, it had slowed enough that as long as a soldier stayed prone he wouldn't be instantly killed. From on her stomach, Freesia fired another volley of shots – aimed this time, and directed at the muzzle smoke coming from an Imperial machine gun. She wasn't sure if it was her round that did it, but by the time she had to stop to reload the incoming fire from the gun had ceased. Rolling over onto her back, she swapped magazines. Just as she rolled back onto her stomach, another mortar round struck the ground in front of her. Covering her head, she waited for the dirt to settle.

Ahead of her, Wavy turned his shoulders back to face the section. "We're moving up. Keep low, and don't stay up too long." Springing off of the ground, he began to charge forward. Freesia followed suit. In a half crouch, she sprinted forward. After moving about five seconds worth of distance, she fell back onto her stomach and rolled to her right. A second later, a stream of rounds kicked up the ground where she'd originally gone down. She fired another round of shots before repeating the process.

After going down for the third time, a lance round flew over Freesia's head. Glancing back, she watched it strike the tank they'd taken cover behind. The explosive penetrated the vehicle's light armor at the base, and exploded near the front of the body. Two of the crew members crawled out of the tank's hatch. The third never left. Before she could take aim again, Emile rolled next to her. "You holdin' up Frees?"

"Something like that. You?"

"Hey, I can pull my weight."

"Didn't doubt it." She shouldered her rifle.

"You see that group over to the left? Let's do this together."

"Alright. Let's do it." Taking aim at the group Emile pointed out, Freesia opened fire. The first Imperial went down with three holes in his armor. Freesia had only fired two shots. They'd aimed at the same target. With the first of the four down for the count, she moved on to the next target. He was firing on a group of soldiers advancing on the left. Freesia's first shot took him in the knee. As he fell to the ground, her second shot went over his head. Her third shot struck its target in the face. With a second hole under his visor and a third at the back of his head, the Imperial went down for good. Before she could pick out another target, Emile had taken out the other two.

Seconds later, the Imperials began to pull back. Still prone, Wavy addressed his troops. "Move up to the tree line. I want shocks up front. Bielert, hold your position here and keep us covered. If there's anything moving that's not wearing a blue uniform, take it out." Setting his pack back down for support, Emile nodded. As he readied his weapon, Lynn and Edy began to move forward. Weapons shouldered, they advanced slowly. To their right, the other sections were advancing in a similar manner. Stepping into the tree line, they scanned for targets.

Anyone who could still move had already fallen back. That left behind the wounded and the dead. Moving carefully, Edy and Lynn began to secure the enemy's weapons. Bending over to unload an Imperial ZM Kar, Edy stopped when she heard a sudden gasp. Lifting her own weapon, she pointed it at the noise. Leaning against a tree was a wounded Imperial sergeant. "Don't move." Edy began to walk towards the man. As she moved closer, she could see he was reaching for something near his thigh – a handgun.

"Hey," Edy said, "I told you not to move!" The Imperial ignored her. "H-Hey! Stop!" He drew. Edy's weapon was already in position. Before the handgun was out of the holster, she'd emptied half her magazine into the man's chest. Falling to his side, the trunk of the tree he'd been leaning on was covered in bullet holes and slick with his blood. After waiting a second to make sure her target was down, Edy moved to take his weapon.

"Everything OK over there?" Lynn asked.

"I-I've got it covered." Other than the sergeant, none of the other wounded Imperials fought back. Within a few seconds the area had been cleared, and the rest of the unit joined them in the forest.

"Wavy! Over here!" A little ways away, Wavy could see Sergeant Coren calling for him. Ordering his men to hold their position, he walked over to her. Rosie was already there. "Wavy," she said, "the artillery should be just on the other side of this wooded area. 2nd platoon is advancing from the right. We're going straight in. Their mortar team is still up, so make sure you keep plenty of distance between men. Any unit that's retreated is sure to have fallen back to defend those guns, so don't get careless. Got it?"

"Yes sir."

"Good." Juno smiled. She was glad Wavy was part of her platoon. "Staff Sergeant Zaka will be bringing the Shamrock through as soon as he possibly can. Until then, I'm coordinating the infantry offensive. Don't stray too far from my position."

"Understood. We'll be right behind you."

"I believe it. Get your men ready, we're starting the advance."

Moving back to his unit, Wavy prepared them to advance. "I want a line formation. Our right flank should be touching 2nd section's left. Don't bunch up; if an explosive goes off nearby I don't want them taking two for one." Quickly, his troops carried out his order. Within seconds he was standing in front of a line of Militia soldiers, each one at an interval of about fifteen feet from the soldier next to him. Satisfied, Wavy watched for the signal to advance. After a moment, Juno waved the group forward. With weapons raised, the formation moved through the trees. From the clearing behind them, they could still hear the mortar rounds striking the remainder of the advancing Army unit. With 2nd section to their right and a full Army platoon to their left, Wavy's 1st section wouldn't be on the flank. That was comforting.

Ahead, Wavy could see a break in the trees. They were reaching the end of the woodland. Juno slowed the formation. Carefully, they crept up to the tree line. The area ahead of them was wide open. At the center of the clearing, the artillery battery continued to fire on the supply line. The soldiers who'd retreated from the tree line were now taking cover behind a low stone fence in front of the guns. Concealed by the brush, they hadn't spotted the Gallians yet. One by one, Wavy assigned targets. "Bielert, take the officer. York, first on the left. Evans, second on the left. Dufor, third. Lynn, take out the machine gunner. Edy, the lancer on the right." Ambush prepared, Wavy waited for Juno to start the firefight. Checking to make sure everyone was ready, Juno aimed at one of the artillery crew. Her single shot was followed by a barrage of fire from all across the tree line. After the first volley, only the second soldier from the left still stood, and Wavy gunned him down himself with a follow up.

With the first round of Imperials neutralized, the second began to return fire. Still kneeling, Freesia took aim as a round zipped past her shoulder. Firing two shots, she watched in disappointment as they struck the wall below her target. Before she could get off her third shot, he'd fallen back down below the cover. Shifting her aim, she put another Imperial in her sights and fired another two shots. She never saw what happened. Before she gained control of the weapon after the second recoil, the ground between her and her target exploded, sending a cloud of smoke and dust into the air. "Mortar's back on us!"

Two more rounds fell near the formation. With visual confirmation, the fire was much more accurate this time. Dropping to her stomach, Freesia hit the ground just as one of the mortar shells struck a tree off to her right. The burst sent bark flying through the air above her head, and the thick tree fell forward into the clearing.

Wavy rushed over to Emile's position. "Bielert, do you have a shot on that mortar?"

Emile looked through his scope. "Negative. They've got a nice defilade. Sandbags. Can't get a shot."

"Alright. Keep firing on those infantry. We'll have to hold against that mortar until we can get some armor through to take it out." Leaving Emile's side, Wavy went to check up on the rest of the section. Stopping at each solder, he made sure everyone was alright. To their right, another shell took out a tree behind Rosie's position. If the armor didn't come soon, the mortar was going to destroy the entire formation.

Reaching the end of the line, Wavy started to move back to his own position at the center of the unit. Before he'd made it a quarter of the way, another shell burst took out a tree just above Musaad's position. Still kneeling, Mayfield was sprayed by the splinters the blast threw out. Falling to his hands and knees, he was struck in the back of the head by one of the tree's branches as it crashed to the ground. Running, Wavy moved towards his assistant section leader.

He was unconscious. From the next position over, Nancy crawled over. "Is he alright?"

Wavy checked his pulse. "He's alive. We need to get him a medic."

"Should we pull him back?"

"No. He's hit in the head. Could have hurt his neck. It'd be best not to move him." Another shell went off nearby. It was close enough to spray the two soldiers with dirt.

"Yes sir. Should I go get someone?"

"Quickly. Fina should be nearby."

As 1st platoon's medic, Fina would be on standby. Until she arrived, Wavy would have to make sure Mayfield survived himself. Looking over him, there wasn't much he could do on the spot. Instead, Wavy secured the man's weapons. Making sure everything was clear and safe, he waited for the medic to arrive.

Fina didn't keep him waiting for long. With Nancy in tow, she ignored the incoming fire and moved next to the wounded man. "What exactly happened to him?"

"A shell burst toppled a tree," Wavy said. "One of the branches hit him in the head on the way down."

"And the scratches?"

"Debris."

Fina checked him over. A stray round dropped a twig into her hair, but she didn't seem to notice. "He'll be fine. Nothing looks broken. We'll pull him out on a stretcher just in case, but I don't think there's too much risk in moving him." She pulled a collapsible stretcher out of her pack. "Nancy, can you help me with this?"

"Yeah, I've got it."

"Good. Wavy, can you move him onto the stretcher?"

Moving the man onto the stretcher, Wavy cleared the two to go. Picking the wounded man up, they began to evacuate him to the rear. As they left, two more shells exploded outside the tree line. With one man down, Wavy had to fill the missing man's spot. Aiming his rifle, he picked out an Imperial at the fence and fired. Even though they were making progress with the enemy infantry, the mortar was still keeping them suppressed.

Hardly recognizing the noise, Wavy heard a low rumble to the right of Rosie's unit. Seconds later, the Shamrock moved out into the clearing along with the Edelweiss and two other Gallian tanks. Opening fire on the remaining infantry, the tanks blew through the stone fence they were using for cover. From the enemy lines, a lance round struck one of the Army tanks, but the explosive glanced off of the tank's armor and exploded harmlessly on the ground behind it.

Immediately, Juno got on the line with Zaka. "Sir," she said into the radio, "enemy mortar at your 1 o'clock. It needs to be taken out before we can advance."

"Yes ma'am, I've got you covered." Pivoting the Shamrock's turret, Zaka took aim at the Imperial mortar crew. The tank round turned the weapon into a heap of scrap, and the crew into heaps of torn flesh and bone. With the mortar silenced, the infantry could move forward.

Rushing out of the tree line, Wavy's section took cover behind the stone fence the Imperials had been using before. With the Imps on the run, the Gallians took aim and finished the soldiers as they ran. In moments, the survivors made it to the opposite tree line. The park was clear. Stepping out from behind the fence, Wavy moved his men forward. "Secure those guns. Make sure everything is in order. We want to be able to use them ourselves, if possible."

Rosie's unit moved up with them. As Wavy made it to the first artillery piece, Juno came up behind him. "Not a bad job, Wavy. Everyone make it alright?"

"Musaad's down. He'll be fine though. I'll need an acting assistant section leader in the meantime."

"I'm sure you can find a suitable substitute."

Wavy smiled. "Yes. I've got someone in mind."

"Glad to hear it. Rosie's group made it through unharmed. That just leaves 2nd platoon. Hopefully they'll be alright."

"Staff Sergeant O'Hara knows what she's doing. They'll be alright."

"Yes, of course." Juno took off her glasses and wiped them down. The dirt from the mortar shelling had coated them. "Nothing to do here now but secure our position. Zaka will tell us what we need to do. If we…"

An explosion shook the ground near the platoon. Immediately, the soldiers dropped to their stomachs. "Where'd that come from?" Wavy yelled.

Emile searched through his scope. "Opposite tree line. Enemy armor."

"Armor?"

"Yes sir. Brush doesn't look as thick over there, and they've got hedge choppers."

Wavy didn't know if he wanted the answer, but he had to ask anyway. "Infantry?"

It took Emile a moment to scan the area. "At… At least two companies, by the looks of it…"

Wavy held in a groan. He would never let his troops see him grumble or despair. That didn't mean he didn't feel it though. With only a Militia Squad, an Army Company, and a small armor detachment, the odds against two Imperial Infantry Companies and an Armored Unit weren't exactly the most desirable. Still, they would be defending this time. That gave them at least some ground. "Listen up," he yelled. "The day's not through yet. We're not giving up this battery. Dig in." They'd won round one. Round two was just beginning.

* * *

Next Engagement: The Thin Red Line


	17. The Thin Red Line

**Engagement 17: The Thin Red Line**

In an exposed area, the term "dig in" didn't mean much. At most it meant get on your stomach, and if possible find something to put between yourself and whatever was trying to kill you at the moment. The clearing was flat, which meant the only thing a soldier could put between himself and the enemy was his combat pack. It wouldn't do much, but it was better than nothing. The pack wouldn't stop a machine gun round, but if you were lucky it could protect you from other small arms fire. At the very least, you could use it as a support for your rifle.

While the pack didn't provide much of a physical advantage, it did provide some mental benefit. Behind her pack, Juno felt safe. Not really safe, but safer. There was at least something other than air in between her and the enemy. For a moment she was protected. That moment didn't last long.

"Sergeant!" A short distance to her right, Rosie Stark fumbled for a fresh magazine. "This won't do for cover. We've got to pull back to that wall."

Juno looked back. The rock wall they'd used for cover before stood about 100 meters behind them. With the incoming fire, they'd be shot down if they made a run for it. Still, it was their only hope of surviving the assault. "Stark, I need a radio. Get me a radio."

Rosie fired three bursts from her Mags. Taking her right hand off of the weapon, she held the gun by the fore grip and waved down the closest radioman. "Wyatt! Wyatt, we need a radio!"

Luckily – as usual – Dallas was right next to her. "Right away, Rosie." Slowly, the girl began to crawl to the platoon leader's position. The radio made her a big target, and she could almost feel the tracers flying only inches above her load. Setting her rifle aside, Dallas put herself right next to Juno. The tank shells exploding around the platoon would have to be a secondary concern. Right now she had to help the sergeant with the radio. "All set to go, sergeant."

"Thanks, Wyatt. Do you have the frequency set?"

"Yes sir. It should patch you right into the Edelweiss. Just go ahead and—" She stopped the sentence there. Instead of finishing, she let out a scream and rolled over onto her side as a sharp pain shot up from her leg.

"Dallas!" Juno grabbed the girl and rolled her back onto her stomach. With only a quick glance, she couldn't see where she'd been hit. "Medic!"

Rosie stopped firing just long enough to check on the situation. "Everything alright?"

"I'm good," Dallas said with a grimace. "Got my… foot."

Juno looked at the girl's leg. There was a large hole in her right boot. The leather was torn around the edges, and specks of blood covered the material outside. "Medic's coming. Just hold tight."

A moment later, Fina crawled up behind the group. Keeping her body pressed to the ground, she drug the heavy med kit behind her. "You guys are keeping me busy today. I don't like it."

"Neither do I," Juno said. "Check her foot." While Fina did a check of the wounded engineer, Juno seized the opportunity to return fire. Past the occasional puff of muzzle smoke or displacement of dirt, it was difficult to tell where the enemy was firing from. Instead of aiming at anything specific, she picked out three points that looked like they could hide a soldier and fired into each. Watching the incoming tracers, she tried to track them back to where they'd originated from. In the chaos, she couldn't tell, and while she couldn't find the targets she was glad that none of the tracers seemed to be coming at her. She wasn't completely relieved though. They always said that you could never see the ones that were coming straight at you.

Carefully, Fina began to remove the boot. As she pulled, Dallas groaned and rocked in pain. "Fina… When I asked you for a… foot massage, this wasn't exactly… what I had in mind."

"Sorry about this. I'll owe you one later." It was tough to pull while lying down, but the medic managed. Within a minute, the foot was clear. "You're looking good, Dallas. Don't worry." It wasn't really looking good, but as bullet wounds go everything was relative. "Probably a 9mm. It'll hurt, but you'll be walking in no time." Fina went through her med kit and pulled out a compress. "I've got a question for you. Can you still fire?"

"…Yeah."

"I'm holding off on the Ragnaid then. We need all the guns we have. When we pull back to better cover I'll finish treating you."

Grumbling, Dallas picked up her rifle. "You owe me more than one foot massage for this…"

"We'll settle the details later." Crawling forward a bit, Fina tapped Juno's calf. "Sergeant, she's good."

Juno relaxed her rifle and slid back behind the pack. She felt it shake as a couple of Imperial rounds struck the front. _They were small. I'm darn lucky. _Reaching for the radio on Dallas's back, she grabbed the handset. "7 Actual, this is 7-1 – We've got to pull back to that wall. Can you set up a smoke screen? Over."

A voice came through. Welkin's voice. "7-1 this is 7 Actual – We'll have that smoke screen for you in just a second. Hold tight, over."

"Roger 7 Actual. We've got it covered. Out." Hearing Welkin's voice was a huge boost to Juno's moral. Feeling better about herself, she scanned their line. All of 1st platoon was laid out on the field. To their left, a second Army platoon fought with them. Once the smoke hit, they'd all be able to pull back to the stone wall behind them and set up a real defensive position.

The first ISARA round hit the field directly in front of her. She wasn't sure whether Welkin had aimed the shot intentionally or not, but the gesture didn't go unnoticed. The smoke fanned out from the impact in a slowly spreading cloud. By the time the smoke had reached its full screen, three more rounds had landed in front of the platoons. Giving the later impacts time to create their screen, Juno lifted herself off of the ground and onto her knee. "1st platoon, fall back! Hit the wall! We've got friendlies to our 3, check your fire!" It should have been commons sense, but a leader could never make assumptions on the field.

Reaching down, Juno grabbed her pack and slung it around her back. There were four fresh holes in it. _Better you than me. _After securing her bag, she reached down to Dallas. "Come on, let's get you out of here." Pulling the girl to her one good foot, she slung Dallas's arm around her shoulder. The rest of the platoon was already falling back. Ahead of her, Susie stopped mid stride, turned in place, and fired blindly into the smoke ahead of her. _Must be easier for her to shoot if she can't see her target. _

With the crippled Dallas at her side, Juno was moving much slower than the rest of her unit. Looking over her shoulder, she could see that the smoke screen was still going strong, but the incoming fire hadn't slowed much. The Imperials couldn't aim, but they were still willing to fire rounds blindly through the concealment. As she turned her head, a tank shell flew through the smoke and slammed into the ground ahead of them. The two women quickly ducked their heads as they were struck by the debris. "Ick!" Dallas cried. "It's all dusty."

Juno didn't stop. "At least we weren't hurt. If that had been much closer we…" Wait. Something wasn't right. She could still see the stone wall ahead of them, but something about it was… off. "Oh shoot."

"What's the matter?"

Juno looked down at the ground behind them. Too late to go back now. "My glasses fell off."

"Your… glasses? How bad is your vision without them?"

"I'm good enough to get us back to cover, don't worry."

"I trust you, sir." Dallas looked up at the woman helping her. Though her cheek was smeared with dirt, there was something very charming about the gritty determination the woman possessed. "You know, sir… you look really pretty with them off."

"I look… what?"

Dallas turned her head away. "Pretty, sir."

"I… Oh. Thanks for th-"

"Down!" With a sift motion, Dallas pulled back on Juno's shoulder and pulled her to the ground. As the two landed on their backs, a lance round flew over them and struck the wall ahead of them. The wall held, but secondary fragments littered the ground in front of it. Rolling out from under the other woman, Dallas moaned in pain.

"Are you all right Wyatt?"

She winced. "Landed on my foot…" Juno looked at the damage. The girl hadn't been given Ragnaid for the wound yet, and the fall must have hurt like a bitch and a half. Still exposed, the wound had also been covered in dirt. It would have to be cleaned extensively once they reached a safe place. Still, the drop had saved their lives.

Grateful, Juno picked the girl up again. "Thanks for the save. I owe you two now."

"Two?"

"The glasses tip."

"Oh." Despite the pain, Dallas smiled. "You know, I think Fina's got my feet covered, but massages do sound pretty nice…"

"Later." Juno pushed forward. The rest of the platoon had made it behind the wall and were returning a barrage of their own fire through the smoke. Though the screen was still up, it was starting to fade. Juno could hear the bullets crack as they flew past, but she couldn't tell which side they were coming from. Probably both, and they'd kill her either way. She just hoped that if she _did _end up getting shot it would be in the back. The irony of the thought wasn't lost on her.

Finally reaching the wall, Juno helped Dallas over before she began to mount it herself. Straddling the chest high wall, she rolled forward and hit the ground on the other side. Picking herself up, she took a knee and assessed her sections. The Militiamen of 1st platoon and the Army unit had joined another two Army platoons and formed a firing line on the wall. All across the line, soldiers popped up to fire a couple of shots before ducking back below the wall. 2nd platoon and the rest of the Army Company would be to their right flank off in the far tree line. Their position would put the Gallians in a backwards L formation. As far as defensive positions went, they could have done a lot worse. Behind the wall, the Edelweiss and the Shamrock – along with 6th Armor's small contribution of tanks – blasted shells into the Imperial tree line. Their presence brought a sense of security to the Gallian troops.

As soon as they'd crossed over the wall, Fina began to work on Dallas. Leaving the girl in the medic's care, Juno set off to keep the platoon focused. Although Staff Sergeant Zaka was technically in charge of the platoon, he left most of the leadership duties to his platoon sergeant. Being relatively new to the Squad, he felt that she knew the troopers better, and that he would be more useful inside the Shamrock. When piloting the vehicle wasn't an option, he would leave it behind and lead the platoon on foot, but in the open he left that duty to Juno.

With her glasses gone, Juno wouldn't be effective with a rifle. That freed her up to focus on leading her men. Within seconds of making cover, the smoke screen had faded. Though she couldn't see the enemy, she could still give orders. Running in a crouch below the wall, she checked up on the two sections under her command. She reached Wavy first. "Corporal. Everyone alright?"

Wavy hit the bolt on his rifle with the palm of his hand, and the slide action jumped into place. "A few bumps, but we're all OK."

"Good." Juno looked at Wavy's unit. When they jumped up, they fired randomly into the enemy line. "Keep your fire concentrated. Pick out a sector on the left side of their line and focus your section's fire there."

"Sir."

Running back down the line, she searched for Rosie's group and passed down an order for them to take a sector on the right. With the Platoon's fire focused, she debated slinging her own rifle back around and taking some shots. Looking over the wall, the enemy's line was a blur. Deciding against it, she moved back across the line.

"Rifle mag! Someone toss me a mag!" Juno heard the cry from just beyond her platoon. Seeing that her men were set, she ran towards the voice. Just past Wavy's position, she crouched down next to an Army fire team. "Anyone have any ammo?"

"You looking for some spare mags?"

The soldier looked at the militia woman. "You got some?"

"More than you'll need." Not needing the extra weight, Juno emptied her chest rig. "Spread it around, and don't spend it all in one place."

The soldier picked up one of the magazines. "This is just the most beautiful Goddamn thing I've seen all day."

Juno looked further down the line. The three Army platoons put a heavy spread of fire down the field. She turned back to the soldier in front of her. "Where's your CO?"

The man finished loading her magazine. "We've got a Lieutenant down the line about 50 meters. Check in with him."

"Thanks."

"No ma'am, thank you." The soldier stood up and began firing. Before he'd dropped down again, Juno was on the move. Just down the line she stopped next to a young Lieutenant. With only his head above the wall, he was directing the fire of a .30 caliber.

"Left. Hit that grouping on the left." The gunner of the weapon shifted his fire. "You're a little high, drop down a bit."

The gunner stopped his fire and took a breath. Steadying the weapon, he began to fire in bursts. Next to him, a private fed the ammo belt through the weapon. "There you go," he said. "That's right on."

"Yeah, yeah. I've got it. How are we on belts?"

"Down to three."

The gunner swept his fire back to the right. After another grouping of bursts, the weapon chewed through the last round in the belt. "This one's done, grab the next." Dropping below the wall, he lifted the weapon's top cover. "Lieutenant, we're going to need some more ammo belts."

The Lieutenant dropped below the wall. "Who's got them?"

"Uh… Barnes sir."

The Lieutenant tapped the rifleman next to him on the shoulder. "Wolfe, go find Private Barnes and bring back some .30 belts. We need them here five minutes ago."

".30 belts, yes sir."

"Also, if you see Francis tell him to position his AT team on our left flank. If one of those tanks tries to break through our line, blow the pilot's balls off."

"Sir." The rifleman ran off. It wasn't until after he'd gone that the Lieutenant noticed Juno kneeling next to him.

"Ma'am, are you with the Melitia Squad?"

"That's right, sir," Juno said. "That's my platoon. How are you setting up your firing line? Is there anything we could be doing to help you out?"

The Lieutenant thought for a moment. Peeking his head over the wall, he scanned the tree line before dropping back down. "Actually, glad you asked. We've been dealing with five kinds of shit with supply distribution. You have any grenadiers with you?"

Juno rolled her eyes back in thought. _York. _"Yes sir."

"Good. Drop a round about every twenty meters down their line. It'll be a distance shot, but they should be just within range."

"Yes sir. Anything else?"

"That's about it. Keep firing and-" The wall behind him shook as a lance round struck the ground in front of it. "Dammit! Parker, follow the trail, take that guy down!" Once again the Lieutenant directed the machine gun's fire. Not wanting to interrupt, Juno excused herself unannounced. Noce was injured, but Freesia was qualified as a grenadier as well, and when Juno had left she'd been in fighting condition.

Running back to Wavy's section, Juno stopped next to Freesia. "York, how many grenade rounds do you have left?"

"Two."

That wouldn't be enough. They'd have to find more. _Who's carrying the ammo? _Juno thought for a moment. "Dufor!" The scout didn't hear her. Juno cupped her hands over her mouth and tried again. "Dufor!" Nothing. "Dufor!" She looked up, and Juno waved her over. "Dufor, we need the M5 grenade rounds. You carrying?"

Nancy went through her pack and pulled out a medium sized case. "Here." There were six more rounds in the box. Setting it aside, Freesia loaded one of her grenades onto the rifle.

"Sweep across the line," Juno said. "Drop one every twenty meters or so. If you see a tight grouping, drop an extra regardless of distance. Nancy, keep her supplied." With the orders given, Juno sat back. The Gallian heavy tank behind the line fired its main cannon, and she could clearly hear the explosion as the round hit across the field. The machine gun mounted on the vehicle thumped as the gunner sprayed the weapon's rounds across the line. As Juno began to move down the line, the thumping stopped. "Gunner's down! Shocks, keep your suppression going!"

Lynn sprayed her Mags and swept the weapon from the left side of her sector to the right. She spent her whole magazine without letting off the weapon's trigger. Weapon empty, she dropped below the wall as a round snapped to her left. "Bielert, you got any targets for me?"

"A whole group just dropped in by that cluster on the left. Get some fire on them."

Lynn looked over the wall. "The cluster by the stump?"

"Yeah," Oscar said. "They set down behind the log just in front of it. I can't get a clear shot."

"Alright, I've got them." She raised her Mags, but hesitated. After a seconds pause, she lowered the weapon. _This isn't working. _Dropping back down, she let out a long sigh. No use fighting it. Slinging the weapon, she backed away from the wall.

"Hey, where are you going?" Rosina stopped fitting a round on her lance. "Don't start running away now! Goddamn coward, get back…" Rosina almost dropped her weapon. "Oh. You've gotta' be shitting me…"

Grabbing the back of the heavy tank, Lynn hoisted herself onto the vehicle's body. Crawling forward she stopped at the hatch. The gunner's body was slumped still slumped forward against the weapon. "Hey, you guys need a gunner?" she yelled into the hatch.

"You know how to work that thing?"

_I'll figure it out. _"Yeah, no problem. I'm sending his body down." Peeling the man off of the weapon, Lynn carefully pulled him back. Before she dropped him down, she checked his equipment. He'd been shot in the head, but the gear he'd worn itself was still intact. Undoing his chinstrap, she removed the helmet and dropped him gently into the vehicle. _That's going to be useful _she thought as she strapped on the helmet_. _Once the man had been cleared, she stepped into the hatch and brought the weapon down. The mount was armor plated, and only her head was exposed to enemy fire. As she readied the weapon, bullets pinged and ricocheted off of the armor in front of her.

_Alright, now to figure how this works. _The .50 caliber machine gun wasn't custom, but it could only be mounted on heavy vehicles, so Militia soldiers weren't generally trained to use the weapon. Within a moment, though, she'd found the trigger. Aiming at the group Oscar had pointed out, she pulled the trigger. Nothing happened.

Lynn checked the weapon. When the soldier had been shot, he'd bled into the feed. Grabbing the weapon's bolt, she manually ejected the next four rounds. Leveling the weapon for the second time, she pulled the trigger.

The gun was mounted, but it still had a kick to it. She was expecting more. The log she'd been aiming at splintered as the weapon's bullets tore through it at a rate of 600 rounds per minute. A steady stream of tracers flew out at even intervals and drew a line from the weapon to its target. Stopping her fire, Lynn heard the tinkle of the shells falling against the body of the tank before rolling off onto the ground.

"Lynn!" Looking down, Lynn could see Sergeant Coren calling up to her. "Follow their tracers back. If you see a lance trail, take the shooter!"

Aiming down the weapon, Lynn watched for incoming fire. Below her, a portion of the wall shuddered as an explosive round tore into it. Following the trail, Lynn sent a new round of empty casings through the air. After ceasing fire, she examined the area she'd fired on. The weapon had torn through the brush, and snapped branches and broken limbs littered the ground. _Karl would have an aneurysm if he saw this… _

Back at the wall, Juno continued to pace the platoon. She was stopped when Fina waved her down. "Sir! Dallas's radio. Lieutenant Gunther's on the line."

"Thanks Sergeant." Juno picked up the radio. "7 Actual, this is 7-1 – What's the Sitrep? Over."

"7-1 – Echo Actual is calling in an artillery strike. It's… going to be close."

"They… They can't be more than 300 meters out. Is he serious?"

"I'm afraid so Juno. I can't see too well out of the tank, so you're going to have to work as the forward observer. Are you alright with that?"

"I…" It dawned on her that they'd dropped the radio formalities. Despite the situation, she felt a little flutter in her stomach. "I've got it covered Welkin. Er… Sir."

"I know. The first round should hit in about thirty seconds. Keep your heads down. Out. And… Thanks."

Juno let out a deep breath. "1st Platoon!" she yelled. "Artillery coming down, thirty seconds. Heads down!" All around her the Militia soldiers ducked below the wall. As forward observer, she had to stick her head up. Within a few moments she heard the whine of the shell flying through the air. It struck the field midway between the two opposing sides. Even without her glasses she could see the round hadn't hit its intended target. Quickly, she lowered her head and cover. "Check fire! Check fire!" she yelled into the radio. "Add 150 and try again, over."

"Roger that 7-1, next shell is inbound."

Peeking over the wall, she waited for the next shell to strike. The whine of the shell overhead was followed by an earth-shattering explosion just behind the Imperial line. Juno picked up the radio again. "7-1 to 7 Actual – Good hit. Relay that they're clear to open fire." _And please don't hit us. _

The platoon was already below the wall, but Juno wanted to make sure everybody was safe. "Keep your heads down. If you can hug the dirt, do it. Those rounds are danger close. Don't get up to watch." Making sure everyone was clear, she dropped herself to the ground and covered her ears. Artillery had always bothered her. Though the sound was muffled, she could still hear the screams of the rounds as they reached their target. _Here we go…_

The first rounds struck, and the Juno could feel the tremors from the impact through the ground as the explosions thundered across the field. She closed her eyes through the bombardment. Back in college, Faldio had bought some fireworks to celebrate their group of friends finishing their second year. She'd hated them too. Faldio had made her stick around to watch, but she hated the noise, and the bright flashes gave her a headache. Artillery barrages were almost the same thing, but heavier, brighter, and louder. Welkin had been there that night, and he was all that kept her from having a panic attack. Hearing his voice over the radio had the same effect here. He'd trusted her. Needed her. She smiled the whole way through the shelling.

When the pounding stopped, Juno looked over the wall. There was no more incoming fire, and two burnt out Imperial tanks stood motionless in the clearing, fragments of the vehicle's bodies lying in pieces around the field. Pulling out her binoculars, she scanned the line. Nobody still in the area looked like they could pick up a rifle, let alone stand. Lowering the binoculars, she began hoisting herself over the wall. Dropping down on the other side, she called out to her platoon. "Advance on their line. Police up any wounded you can find. Secure weapons and ammo. Fina, set up an aid station nearby. Pool together with whatever medics Echo have with them."

Juno leaned back against the wall as the rest of her platoon moved forward. The counterattack had been thrown back. They'd have to secure the area. But first, Juno had to focus on her priorities. _Alright… Glasses. _She swept her vision across the field. Blurry. It was going to be a long search. Ahead she could see the four platoons advance in a line on the brush ahead. Letting out a sigh, she strained her eyes on the ground in front of her. _Shoot._

* * *

Next Engagement: Field of Dreams


	18. Field of Dreams

**Engagement 18: Field of Dreams**

Everyone was doing something. Whether it was gathering supplies, setting up defenses, or relaxing after the battle, nobody was left with nothing to do – which oddly enough – left Catherine with nothing to do. With her platoon accounted for, she'd sat on the rock wall and watched the soldiers go about their business. For a while she'd watched Echo Company set up sand bags and emplacements, but that got old quickly. She was much more entertained when the Bielert twins started playing catch with the bomb dog Marina had brought along. She didn't know how they'd convinced her to part with the animal, but it was a relief to see the kids smiling. She liked that.

Once the twins had tired out –before the dog, to her surprise – she was left without a view. The sun was starting to set behind the trees, and the sky had turned a light red. Catherine decided it was time to visit an old friend. Hopping off of the wall, she began to make her way to the aid station.

It wasn't much of an aid station, but it made due. A couple of stretchers – all full – and some supply crates. Most of the wounded had been small cases, and were sent on their way after being patched up, and the serious casualties had already been evacuated off of the line. Those who were injured seriously enough to need further treatment, but not seriously enough to need an immediate evacuation lay on the stretchers lined up in the two neat rows. Catherine had already been informed of who'd been hit, and she was thankful that nobody was seriously injured, but she wished the aid station had been empty. Three soldiers from Squad 7 were among the men lying on the stretchers. O'Hara came specifically to visit with one of them, but she decided to take a quick stop to visit one of the others first. Pausing, she kneeled down next to Dallas's stretcher. Her foot had been cleaned and bandaged, and she was resting with her arm over her eyes. She hadn't heard the other woman approach. "How are you doing, Dallas?"

Dallas moved her arm away from her face as her eyes fluttered open. Looking up into Catherine's eyes, she smiled. "Staff Sergeant. I'm doing fine. Just my foot, sir."

"Good to hear. I'm glad you're alright."

"It was close, but we made it. Sergeant Coren saved me, actually. She was really cool."

"Yeah," Catherine said, placing her hand on her knee. "I talked to her after the battle. She told me you kept fighting, even after getting hit. That was very brave of you."

Dallas tried to hide her face as she blushed. "No… I… What would Alicia say if I just gave up? If Alicia won't give up, then I won't. I can't let her down."

"A good response." Not just good, but reassuring as well. Catherine knew all too well that a good leader could make or break a unit, and she was glad to see that Alicia had set a good example for the Squad members to follow. She was a tough girl, and if she could get young women like Dallas to follow her example, she could help lead the Squad to victory yet. Still, something in the back of Catherine's mind told her that they might never see victory. At least, the 7's wouldn't. Not with the missions they'd been given.

"Thank you, sir." Dallas's response snapped Catherine back into the moment. "I'll do my best."

"You always have. I'll let you rest now. Once we get a firm supply line running through here, we'll get you a nice hospital bed with three hot meals a day. How's that sound?"

"Will I have nurses waiting on me?"

"Only the best."

"Maybe I should get shot more often then."

Catherine mussed the girl's hair. "Don't be getting any ideas. We need all the good soldiers we can get. Be a shame to lose you to a bed, as comfortable as that sounds." Lifting her hand off of her knee, Catherine stood back up and looked further down the row. "Now, I'm going to make another quick visit. Get some rest, you hear?"

"Yes sir!"

Nodding goodbye, Catherine continued down the row. The injured were spaced out enough that it was a bit of a walk to reach her mark. Looking as she passed the wounded Army soldiers, she had to remind herself that these were only the lighter wounds. They still looked very painful. Ignoring the injuries, she stopped at a stretcher near the far end. Crossing her arms, she sighed as she looked down at the man lying there. "Oh Coby..."

The man returned the sentiment. "Oh Catherine… To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Can't a woman visit an old friend?"

Coby smiled slightly. "Of course she can. Have a seat."

Chuckling, Catherine sat down next to the man's stretcher. He didn't have any bandages or visible injuries, but she knew the man was in quite a bit of pain. "So. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Absolutely nothing," he said. Catherine's stare broke him within seconds. "Alright, fine. Maybe I'm getting a bit old… Maybe."

"Maybe?" Catherine laughed. "Coby, you were old back in the first war. You're 65 now. You should be settling down with your grandkids, not toting a gun like you were 22 again."

"Bah," he balked. "Those kids may have the bodies, but I've got the mind. There's no stopping that."

"Could have fooled me," she teased. If anyone else had said it Coby would have given them an earful. When Catherine said it, he laughed. "How's your back?"

"Just pulled it. I should be better in no time flat. Couple of days, at the most, I say. I won't even need to be pulled off of the line."

"We'll let Mina decide that. You're the only platoon sergeant I've got, and I'd hate to lose you."

"So that's it, eh?" Coby said with a wry smile. "I'm just an assistant to you?"

"Well, you're working your way up." Catherine pulled out her canteen and handed it to the man. He took a long sip before handing it back. "But really. I don't know how I'll run the platoon without you. You throw your back and everything could go to Hell in an instant. I can trust you."

"It'll only be for a few days, Cathy. Besides, you'll have an acting platoon sergeant. You worry too much."

"What, Linton?"

"Yeah. Linton. She's next in line, right?"

Catherine sighed and scratched the back of her head. "She's young."

"And?"

"And…" As much as she loved her platoon, Catherine had to admit it had its… concerning factors – namely the corporals. There were all sorts of rumors surrounding Ramona's promotions, and she didn't even want to get started on Wulfstan. "It's just… You've heard what's been going around. That she's only been given her post because of her status. She's a nice girl, but… I just don't know if she's ready for the jump. That's all."

"Always half empty with you. How she got the job doesn't matter. She's made good work of it so far, so let her fill my shoes for a little bit. I could use the rest. Besides, it could always be worse."

_Yeah, _she thought. _Wulfstan could have been next in line. _"I guess. I just don't know. Under any other circumstances I might agree with you, but I have a bad feeling about this one."

"What do you mean?"

Catherine plucked a blade of grass out of the ground and rolled it through her fingers. "How many original 7's are left?"

"Original 7's?"

"From back when the Squad was formed."

Coby let out a long breath as he counted in his head. "Well, there are all of the officers and NCOs. Minus Zaka, of course. Then from the privates we've got Milton, York, Martens, and Stijnen. Plus the medics. That makes… What, 21?"

"Yeah. 21 out of 65. Just about one third. You know of any other Militia Squads with a seventy percent casualty rate?"

Ignoring the pain in his back, Coby placed his hands behind his head. The sky had turned a dark red, and the sun had just disappeared behind the tree line. "No, I don't." He wasn't going to argue the point. Instead, he challenged her. "Do you know of any Militia Squads that have done what we've done though? Hell, any Army Company? Royal Guard Unit, even? We fought Maximillian himself head on. With his Valkyria. And we _won. _We fought against his General, who was riding in a massive armored cannon on wheels. And we won there too. If that's not something to write home about, I don't know what is."

"But it's exactly those kinds of missions that are getting us all killed, Coby. If it weren't for the Lieutenant, we'd _all _be dead by now. If this war doesn't end soon, there won't be any of us left to see the end of it."

"And maybe there won't. But if it means the war ends, that might not be such a bad thing."

Catherine let go of the blade of grass, and it dropped to the ground between her feet. "You believe that?"

"Yes ma'am, I do."

A slanted smile graced her face. "Yeah, well. You're already old. Tell that to Stijnen."

Coby cringed as his laughter sent waves of pain through his back. "You know, in my day we used to respect our elders."

"Was this before or after they invented dirt?"

"Just before. The world went downhill when they came up with dirt…"

"What were they thinking," Catherine said shaking her head. Brushing off her uniform, she stood up. "I'll keep in mind what you said – Not that I agree with it, or anything. And… I'll give Linton her fair chance, but don't you stay out too long. I want you back and fit for duty before the Imps get the chance to prove you wrong."

"Well, I guess that's up to Mina, isn't it."

"Always is." Catherine hesitated a moment. Unconsciously, her hand had reached for her breast pocket. She could feel its contents through the material of her uniform. "Coby... I..."

"Yeah?"

_Forget it._ "G'night, Coby."

"Yep. Good night, Cathy."

Having made her visits, Catherine walked away from the aid station. As much as she loved visiting her friend, getting away from the injured was a relief. They would be alright, but they couldn't help but remind her of those who wouldn't. Glass half empty, Coby had said. Maybe he was right about that too. Filing the thought in the back of her mind, Catherine went off to find a decent place to lay her head.

* * *

_Ok, breathe deep. You can do this. You've got it. Don't think too much or you'll chicken out… Again. But don't be stupid. Stay on top of it. Don't let him get the upper hand. _He was walking, but his feet didn't want to take him to where he was going. He knew it had to be done though. He'd already promised. _Deep breath. Here we go. _The man was in front of him. He hadn't turned around. Thankfully, he was alone. Just a tap on the shoulder and… "Cezary, we need to talk."

The man turned around and looked the other soldier over. He didn't look happy about the discussion either. "Karl. Didn't think you'd actually have anything to say. I thought you were going freeze up again… Or have what's-her-name do it for you."

"Lynn. Her name's Lynn."

"Whatever." Cezary gave a disinterested roll of his eyes. "Couldn't care less what you call her. Now don't waste my time. What did you want to say?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Yeah. Nothing."

The sniper scowled. If he'd looked disinterested before, he looked mad now. "I told you not to waste my time. If you were going to cower out, you should have done it _before _you walked up to me. Now you look like a coward _and _a damn fool."

Karl had to keep himself from shaking, but he wasn't sure if it was because of fear or anger. Consciously he kept himself from clenching his fist. If this was going to work, he couldn't show any sign of distress. "Look Regard. You can call me a damn fool. I don't care. And you can call me a coward. You're probably right about that. But don't ever call Lynn a darkie. Ever."

"Or what?"

"We die."

Cezary laughed. "What is this? Some kind of 'We need to learn to hold hands and work together or we'll end up at each other's throats when we should be fighting the enemy' bullshit? If you wanted to cop out I at least thought you could have come up with something better than that. Unless she came up with it. I bet she did."

_Dammit. _For an asshole, he was pretty sharp. _On to plan B. _Wing it. "Fine. We can do it this way too. Let's meet half way. I won't try to be your friend, and you'll keep your racist trash to yourself. I don't want to hear it. I don't like you and you don't like me, and I guess that's the way it'll have to stay."

Karl waited for a response. Staring him down, Cezary pushed his tongue into his cheek. Finally, he nodded. "Fine. I won't say anything about your wife. To your face, at least. But you're still a coward, and if you freeze up again I'll call you out on it. Guaranteed."

That was as good as it was going to get. "Deal."

Karl held out his hand for a shake. Cezary looked down at it and laughed. "Piss off." Knocking the engineer's hand away, he brushed past and left him standing in place. Karl sighed. Nobody had been within earshot, but several people had been watching. All they would have seen was him extending his hand and Cezary blowing him off. How embarrassing. That was alright though. Lynn's smile was worth it.

* * *

Next Engagement: Kill House


	19. Kill House

**Engagement 19: Kill House**

"Hey. Wake up."

The voice was hushed, but along with the hand shaking her shoulder it was enough to awaken Lynn from her dream like state. "Hmmm? Karl?"

"Not quite. Get up. We're moving out."

Slowly her vision came into focus. Dark hair. Glasses. That meant Wavy. The night was still dark, and rolling over she could still see Karl lying next to her. He hadn't woken up. "What time is it?"

"0230. I'm sorry we have to go so early, but it's an emergency. Captain Varrot will explain when we assemble at the staging area. You've got two minutes."

"…Yeah… I'll be right there." Still only half awake, Lynn sat up as Wavy walked off. Rubbing her eyes, she tried to get the world around her to focus. She wouldn't have time to wait for a full wake up. Grabbing her BDU, she slipped her arms through the sleeves and buttoned it up. With her BDU set, she strapped on her chest rig and picked up her Mags. She still wasn't awake, but she would have to hurry if she wanted to make the briefing on time. Regardless, after she'd gathered all of her equipment she stopped a moment to watch the still sleeping Karl. He looked quite handsome with his glasses off. There was more to it though. Wavy had appointed her acting assistant section leader. At least for a short while, Karl and Lynn would be on the same footing – would hold the same responsibilities. She couldn't help but smile a bit. Blowing the man a brief kiss, she brought herself to her feet and walked to the staging area.

The staging area was nothing more than a small tent that had been set up with a couple of small tables placed under it. A couple of crates full of equipment and ammunition were strewn about, and the officers had made the area their briefing room. Captain Varrot had arrived late that night along with Aisha and Squad 1, which was acting as her personal escort. She stood over one of the tables looking intently down at a map of the city. Various positions had been circled and marked off, but Lynn couldn't read it from where she was standing.

Within a minute, eight militia soldiers had assembled under the tent. "We're all here, Captain," Wavy said. "We're ready for your briefing any time."

Captain Varrot looked up. "This is all of you?"

"Yes sir. Lance Corporal Mayfield was knocked unconscious earlier this evening, and Private Bielert is running a slight fever. I told him to rest. Also… We lost Homer."

"I'm sorry," she replied as she walked around the table. The Squad members that had been assembled stood at attention in a line, and the Captain pulled the map she'd been pouring over close enough for them to see. "I hate to wake you all so early, but we've run into a bit of an emergency, and a small unit like yourselves should be sufficient for the task."

Clearing her throat, she pointed down at one of the circled locations on the map. "About five hours ago, 2nd Army Division sent a reconnaissance unit to this building here to observe enemy movement within the area. They arrived at the location and began relaying observations. They reported couple of small troop movements, but nothing major."

"Sounds about right," Wavy said. "That area hasn't been completely secured yet. Have they reported anything since?"

"No. In fact, 2nd Army lost contact with the outpost an hour ago. No report. No distress call. Nothing."

"And we have to go find out what happened to them?"

"I'm afraid so," Varrot sighed. "The battalion that sent them out has its hands full defending against a counter attack from the opposite flank. The two incidents aren't related that we know of… Just plain bad luck. We're the second closest unit, and they've asked us to check it out. We need a small team to move light and fast. Make contact and get out. Don't linger. If they're still there see what the issue is and help them out if you can. If not, try to find out what happened to them. If you run into Imperials, fall back. I don't want you sticking around for a fight."

"Yes sir."

Varrot paused for a moment. Biting the inside of her lower lip, she lowered her eyes. She hadn't gotten any sleep in the past 35 hours or so, and the constant receiving and delivering of orders was wearing her out. After a long moment, she locked eyes with Wavy. "Look, Corporal. I'll be honest. I don't like the sound of this one. Still, as soldiers it is our responsibility to look after one another, and we will do our duty and complete the missions we are handed. That said, I want it completely clear that if you run into any resistance, you are to return immediately. One missing unit is bad enough. I don't want to have to worry about two. You have your orders. Get to it."

As Captain Varrot stepped aside, Wavy walked up and took her place. He wasn't yet sure whether or not leading a section of eight soldiers on a recon mission would be a blessing or a curse. On one hand, they would be able to move quickly and quietly, and they would be a lot more difficult to pick out. On the other hand, if they ran into any Imperial patrols… Wavy cut his thoughts there. He knew that it was a bad idea to be thinking up doubts in front of a group of subordinates. If he gave off any involuntary signs of distress they could pick up on it – even if he didn't. Instead he focused on how the group should go about equipping themselves. "OK. Mayfield is down for the night. I've talked to the medics and he's going to be just fine, but they want to keep him on watch for the next day or so. Lynn will be taking his place as my assistant in the meantime. I want you to give her the same respect you would give Mr. Mayfield or myself." His appointment was met by a chorus of nods. Only Rosina's head didn't move. _Must not be awake yet._

_"_Private Bielert is also resting. That means we won't have any sniper support, but that shouldn't make much of a difference in this lighting anyway so it's mostly a moot point. Just be aware that we're a couple of men down when you're covering your sectors. I want a full 360 degrees of coverage, even with some eyes absent. Also, Fina's coming along with us as our medical support for the patrol. Do you have everything you need, Fina?"

"Yes," she said. "I loaded up on supplies over at the aid station already. I'm set to go anytime."

"Perfect. The rest of you know how to load yourselves and what to bring. Keep it light. This is a recon patrol, not a combat patrol. Grab what you need and meet back in five."

Lynn already had just about everything she was going to need. Her ammo pouches were already full, and she wouldn't need much else. In fact, more stuff would likely just get in the way. Patting herself down, she decided all she could really use was an extra grenade or two. Looking for the explosives crate, she found it sitting in the corner of the tent area. She also saw she wasn't the only one who had the same idea. "Picking up an extra frag or two, Edy?"

"Mhm…" the girl mumbled.

"Are you… Alright?"

Edy looked up from the box of grenades. She had heavy bags under her eyes, and her trademark twin ponytails looked like they'd been done up in a hurry. "Hm? Oh… Yeah. I'm good. No worries."

"Ah." Lynn looked over her equipment. "You know your rig isn't strapped right in the back, right?"

"My what?"

Lynn laughed. "Here. Let me fix this up for you." Forcefully turning the other girl around, Lynn unstrapped her chest rig and untangled the mess she'd created with the straps. When she was satisfied, she clipped her back up and tightened the rig as tight as she could make it. "How's that, Edy? Comfortable?"

"I… Yeah. I'm fine."

"Good." Lynn took another check of the girl. Her equipment was fine, but she still only looked about one quarter awake. One quarter awake was three quarters away from being combat effective. That wouldn't do. "Hey, listen Edy. I was just about to head down to the aid station. They're serving cups of coffee. If you want, I can bring one back for you. That sound good?"

Edy's eyes lit up for a moment, but the burst of energy disappeared as quickly as it had come. "You mean… You'd get me a cup?"

"That's what I just said, wasn't it?"

"But…" Edy's face turned a light red. "I never asked you to."

"Yeah, I know. I asked you. Do you want the cup or not?"

"Ye…" She stopped mid word to clear her throat. "Well," she said with a bit more confidence, "I _guess _you could bring a cup back for me if you're going there anyway."

_That's better. _"Alright. I'll be back in just a minute." Holding back laughter, Lynn began the walk to the aid station. Edy was hard headed and more than a little conceited, but she was caring and compassionate on the inside – even if she refused to show it. Lynn wished she would relax and openly act on that compassion, but then again, if Edy did that she wouldn't really be Edy.

Moving into the aid station, Lynn found the small table where the coffee was being brewed. Grabbing two cups, she began to pour the steaming liquid into the containers. Halfway through the second cup she heard a voice behind her. "You want to make that three?"

_Dammit. _"Sure thing, Selden." Of all the people to come behind her for coffee, it had to be Rosina. After filling the second cup, she pulled out a third and began pouring. "Here you go," she said after it had been filled and handed it to the other woman.

"Hm," Rosina grunted, taking the cup. She didn't take a sip. Instead, she sent a glare at Lynn that cut straight through her. "I didn't come here for the coffee, Lynn."

"I figured. What do you want?"

"To talk to you. I see you're still wearing that helmet you picked up earlier."

"Yeah. Could come in handy." The fact was that Lynn was proud of her stint as a gunner, and she hoped that Rosina would recognize the strength and courage it took to jump up there after the first gunner had been killed.

Rosina certainly recognized something. It wasn't exactly what Lynn had expected. "If you ever pull a stupid stunt like that again, I'll frag you myself."

"What are you talking about," Lynn said taken aback. "Someone needed to take that gun. I couldn't let it go unused."

"Someone who's trained to use it, yes. You had no idea what you were doing. You could have just as easily gotten yourself killed. Or worse, killed one of us. You're assistant section leader today. You do something rash and stupid and I'll make sure none of us die for it. Whatever that means."

"I don't think I like what you're implying."

"Good. You shouldn't. So don't mess up." Rosina stepped away and tossed the drink Lynn had poured her onto the ground. "Thanks for the coffee."

_You've got to be kidding me. _All the hope of progress Lynn had dreamed her actions would bring crashed to the ground. Nearly crushing the cups of coffee in her hands, she realized she was squeezing them too tightly and took a deep breath to cool down. It wouldn't do to burn herself before the mission, and she'd hate to bring Edy a crushed cup. Deciding to walk it off, she began her walk back to the staging area. Everyone was equipped and set to go. Quietly, she moved next to Edy and passed her the cup. "Here."

"Thanks." At least someone had manners. Patting Edy on the shoulder, Lynn stepped in line with Wavy. The man was taking a final rundown of the section.

"Looks like we're all clear," he said. "Remember: Stay quiet and fast. We'll be back in time to catch a few more Z's, but don't rush things. Keep a level head and we'll all be fine. Let's move out."

The unit filed in behind them. Walking in two short columns, the soldiers made their way out of the park. At the edge of the clearing, Lynn looked back to the place she'd been sleeping. In the dark, she could just make out Karl's silhouette on the ground. If all went well, she'd be back before he woke up. Still, leaving him for even this brief period was tough. She didn't want to leave him alone. Shrugging it off, she turned out of the park and followed Wavy into the city.

* * *

He couldn't see any movement through the binoculars. It had taken 45 minutes for the group to make it to the target building, and they hadn't come across a soul throughout the entire trip. Even the target building looked completely empty, save for a single light shining from a second floor window. Playing it safe though, Wavy stopped the group to observe the area and lay low before advancing. They had been sitting for 15 minutes, and hadn't heard or seen a single sign of Imperial activity. There weren't any signs of Gallians either though. Setting the binoculars down, Wavy scanned the area with his bare eyes. The building was in the middle of an open square, taking up most of the open space. The map had shown that there was an open area – possibly a courtyard – on the other side. They wouldn't be able to see it unless they actually moved around to it though. Either way, he didn't believe there were any Imperials there. They would have heard them by now. It was time to move. "Dufor, bring up the radio."

Nancy saddled next to him. She wasn't an engineer, but since Homer had been the section's radioman before, Nancy had been filling in for him. Grabbing the handset, he brought it up to his mouth and thumbed the transmit button. "7, this is 7 1-1 – Radio check, over."

"7 1-1, this is 7 – You're coming in good and readable. How are we? Over."

"I've got you loud and clear 7. We've made it to the target building. Nobody seems to be here, but there's a light on inside. We can't see what's going on in there from where we are. Please advise, over."

"This is 7 – Interrogative: Am I right to say that you have not checked the actual building? Just the premises?"

"That's affirmative 7," Wavy said through the handset. "We can't give any confirmation on the building itself, but everything looks quiet, over."

"Roger that, 7 1-1. If everything looks clear you need to check that building out. We need to be 100 percent sure our men aren't there. Run a sweep and return to base. Verify, over."

"7 1-1 – I verify: Run a sweep of the building and return to base, over."

"That is correct, 7 1-1. Good luck. Out."

Setting the radio down, Wavy took another look over at the building. It wasn't huge, but it was big enough that sweeping the place could get complicated. Everything looked quiet, but one could never be too safe. The section was positioned behind a wall that would give good cover from the target building. If he left a few soldiers behind to provide overwatch, they might have a chance of clearing the place quickly and going home. "Lynn," he said after making up his mind, "Keep Evans and Selden here with you. You're covering us as we clear the place. Make sure nothing creeps up on us. Everyone else, on me."

With the remaining four soldiers, Wavy hopped over the wall and walked up to the building's front door. Passing though the clearing had been tense, but the small unit hadn't taken any fire. He was beginning to think that the building was empty after all. Ready to start the search, he lined up the four soldiers with him. "We're not sure whether we'll meet anyone in here, but since we've lost contact with the outpost we have to assume there are hostiles inside. It's a standard clearing. Don't put your guard down because it was our OP and because it's quiet." They were ready. Edy would be the first in, followed by Freesia. Wavy and Dufor would bring up the back, with Fina lagging behind them in case of an injury. Edy began the tapping chain to make sure everyone was ready to go, and when the pat returned to her she opened the front door and stepped through.

The room was dark, but empty. Clearing out all of the corners, Edy checked for entrances and exits. There was only one other door in the entryway, and it led further into the house. That narrowed down the options. Once more the soldiers lined up. Tapping Freesia on the shoulder, Edy waited for the pat that would tell her to bust through the door. Within a few moments, she felt the slight push on her shoulder. _Showtime! _In one fluid motion, she flung the door open, took a step in and… stopped.

"Hey, what the Hell, Nelson?" Freesia had taken a step back after bumping into the girl.

"I…" Edy looked down at the thin wire that had been attached to the door. Following the line through the dimly lit room, she could see what the other end had been attached to. An Imperial S mine.

"Edy?"

"A star… Never really dies, right? She just… Waits for he—"

Faster than the naked eye could register, the mine exploded into the air and detonated – sending its payload of steel balls tearing through the air in every direction. The explosion itself rocked the building, and the impact of the shrapnel tore through its thin walls, leaving tiny pinpricks of light to cut through the darkness of the other room as evidence of their passage.

Wavy had been stunned by the blast. Once the shock of the explosion passed, he realized just how bad the damage had been. Of the shrapnel that had penetrated the wall, 90 percent of it had done so ahead of him – Straight into where Edy and Freesia had been standing. The two had dropped straight to the floor after the blast, and the wall and floor around them were soaked in blood. Even the ceiling hadn't been spared from the splatter. For a moment he stared, completely awestruck. One of the girls' moans snapped him out of it. "Corpsman!"

Fina came running up behind him. "Yes sir! What hap…" Coming upon the scene stopped her in her tracks. "Oh my…"

Wavy grabbed the girl by the arm. "Fina. At least one of them is still alive. Get to work. Dufor, radio back to HQ that we've got men down. We're pulling back as soon as we can move my girls." Letting go of Fina's arm, he walked through the doorway.

"Hey wait!" she said. "What are you doing?"

"Making sure there's nobody else here. I'll keep you guys covered as best I can."

"But Wavy…"

"Get to work Fina." Without another word, he shut the door behind him and continued into the next room.

Nearly forgetting to breathe, Fina kneeled next to the two bodies on the floor. Her knee was met with a warm, wet substance that coated the floor. Blood. Holding back a shudder, she took a once over of the two wounded soldiers. At least one of them had been alive to moan. Freesia was lying on her back. She had an entry wound the size of a small nut on her lower stomach, and it was bleeding freely onto the floor around her. That explained the blood on Fina's knee. Shifting to the other side, she began to check Edy. She was lying on her stomach, and Fina couldn't see any wounds in her back. _Looking good so far. _Carefully she turned her over and… _Oh God. _Without the wall in the way to provide at least some protection, Edy had taken the full force of the mine's payload. Fina didn't need to check her vitals to know that she'd been dead before she hit the floor. That left Freesia.

As quickly as she could, Fina unbuttoned Freesia's BDU. Pulling out a pair of scissors, she cut a large square out of the girl's undershirt, exposing the wound and giving the woman a clear area to work. The wound was big, and if Fina didn't stop it from bleeding soon Freesia wouldn't make it. Tearing through her pack, she pulled out her equipment. _Ok. Keep the wound clean and stop the bleeding. Just stabilize her. She needs a surgeon. Just get her there. _She had to pause again when she heard Freesia moan. "F-Freesia?"

The wounded girl was mumbling. Fina couldn't make anything out. "Freesia, can you hear me?"

"I…damn…I"

Fina began putting pressure on the wound. As she pushed, blood gushed out around the compress. "Freesia, are you awake? Can you feel anything?"

"Feel…light...could dance…like…swan."

_She's in shock. _Pushing harder, Fina put more pressure on the wound. "That's alright Freesia. Just tell me about that swan, alright? I want to hear all about—" A loud crack echoed through the house. Small arms fire. The first report was followed by three more. Looking back, Fina locked eyes with Nancy. "Do you think…"

"That had to be Wavy, right? He… He'll be right b-back, right?"

"Yeah, Nance. He'll be right…" Footsteps. Coming from the room next door. For the second time, Fina and Nancy locked eyes. This time, Nancy raised her weapon.

"Wavy?" she called. There was no response, and the footsteps stopped. "Wavy, sir? Is that you?" Nancy looked over to the other Militiaman.

Fina shook her head. _Not him _she mouthed.

Nancy aimed her weapon at the wall. If the metal balls from the mine could penetrate, so could her bullets. "W-Wavy? If you don't answer I'm gonna' sh—" Four more pinpricks of light shot through the wall in front of Nancy. From the next room the sound of a submachine gun thundered through the confined space of the house. In a spray of blood and bone, Nancy dropped her weapon and fell to the floor. Her beret – now torn through with a bullet hole and soaked through with gore – toppled off of her head and onto the ground behind her.

_I've got to get out of here. _Freesia wasn't in any condition to move, but it didn't seem like there was any choice. Grabbing the back of her rig, Fina began dragging her towards the front of the house. If they could make it outside, Lynn's group could give them the cover they needed to make it out alive. _Just make it to Lynn. Just make it to Lynn. Just make it to…_

A new set of gunshots sounded off from outside. They'd made it out there too. That left nowhere to run. Cradling Freesia's body, Fina waited for the Imperial next door to walk through and end them. Nancy and Edy had already made the jump. If they could do it, so could Fina. At least, that's what she tried to tell herself. She didn't feel nearly as brave about it as she hoped her thoughts sounded. Without shame, she closed her eyes as the door opened and the Imperial who stepped through raised his weapon. This was it. Just like having your eyes closed. Nothing but trading one darkness for another.

"Hey! We need a medic down here!"

"I've got my hands full!"

"This one's priority!"

"I said I've got my…"

"Goddammit, I said this one's priority!"

Fina opened her eyes. The Imperial had lowered his weapon and was walking further into the room. "Hey," he said. "Are you a medic? Do you need anything?"

"Do I need… What?"

"Supplies. Medical equipment. Your friend's going to bleed out if you don't get to helping her. What are you doing just sitting around?"

"Well… I…" His gun was down. He wasn't going to kill her. "I'm f-fine. I just n-need to finish…"

The Imperial raised his hand. "Woah, slow down. You don't look so good yourself. Our medic is on his way. Just sit back and let him take care of it."

For the first time in what seemed like ages, Fina took a deep breath. She quaked as she exhaled. By the sound of it, the firefight outside was still raging. As she took her second breath, another group of Imperials walked in. "Where's the priority?" the one with a large gap over one eye where the visor usually covered.

"Right here, sir. Looks bad. That mine really tore through them. Looks like an entry wound, but I don't see an exit."

"Fragment's still in there then… Shit." The Imperial medic looked up at Fina. Glancing over her uniform, he saw the patch that indicated her status as a Gallian corpsman. "Did you give her anything for this?"

Fina shook her head. "N-No. Not yet."

"Good. Diethelm, grab the morphine out of my kit and bring it over."

Little by little, Fina began to regain her composure. "M-Morphine?"

"Yeah," he said. "It's like your Ragnaid."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Same effects, just a different makeup. I've always – Oh, thank you," he said as Diethelm passed him the syrette.

"Wait… If it has the same effects, would using it on her now be a good idea?"

"No, but I like having it around just in case. Makes me feel safer. It's more for me than it is her." Grabbing his kit, the medic began to work. After cleaning the wound as best he could, he sat back in thought. "She's not going to make it to a field hospital. We'll leave the fragment in for now, but we can't just slap a bandage on her up and call her fixed."

"Are you crazy?" Fina cried. By the look the other medic gave her, he was being completely serious. "The best we can do is patch her up and hope we can make it. We can't do surgery here!"

The Imperial looked clueless. "Why not?"

"We'd need a surgeon!"

"I am a surgeon," he said with a shrug. "I need your help though. Grab this and keep pressure on the wound. When I tell you, I'm going to start working. I'll do what I can here to stabilize her and pull her out to a field hospital. Is that acceptable?"

Fina thought for a moment. It seemed their only option. "Yeah, I'll help with…" Wait. A field hospital. An _Imperial _field hospital. That would make them prisoners of war. _No helping that now. _"I'll do it."

"Good, now just hang on to—"

"Hey, Doc!"

The medic let out an exasperated groan. "What now?"

"We've got another live one! Shot in the hip and shoulder! Darcsen with glasses!"

_Wavy's alive! _Fina's heart jumped. They couldn't help Edy or Nancy, but Freesia and Wavy might make it out yet.

"One second!" The medic looked up at Fina. "Hey, what's your name?"

"3rd Regiment Squad Seven, Hospital Corpsma—"

"Not your unit and rank. Just your name."

Of all the things to forget. It took her a moment to get her head straight enough to fish out an answer. "Fina."

"OK, Fina." The medic placed his hand on her shoulder. "I can't leave your friend here. She'll die if I do. I need you to go help your friend in the other room, can you do that for me?"

_That's my job. _"Yes."

"That's a girl. Grab your supplies, and take any of mine you need. We've got plenty. Just make sure you get him—"

Before he could send Fina off, three more Imperial soldiers ran in, this time from the front door. As they stepped into the room, Fina noticed that they each had a thick black band colored onto their pauldrons. In fact, looking around the room she could see that every Imperial wore the same black band. "Oberlieutnant," the lead soldier yelled. "There were three more outside. We wounded two of them, but the third dragged them to better cover. We can't get a good shot on them without actually moving in and assaulting their position."

Stepping forward, one of the Imperials peeked out of the front door. "Where are they?"

"That building there, sir" said the second soldier as he pointed to a small shop on the corner of the street near their position. "Move in on them?"

The Imperial brought his hand to his armored chin. Tapping his helmet, he shook his head. "Don't risk it. Is that 20mm still sitting around out back?"

"Yes sir."

"Sweep the place and call it a day. We're not sticking around anyway."

"We're on it." Moving through the building, the three Imperials ran off. Fina was frozen in place. Two of Lynn's group had been hit, and it didn't look like the Imp's commanding officer was looking to take any more prisoners. The Arcadian was thrown back into shock – and that was before she saw the 20mm… Cannon that the three Imperials wheeled into a firing position. Before she could turn away, the weapon began chewing threw its massive rounds, spitting out expended shells at an alarming rate. It didn't sound like any weapon Fina had ever heard. The reports were heavy, like miniature grenades going off in rapid succession. It wouldn't have been a stretch, looking at the damage the thing had done to its target. Within moments of opening fire, the windows had been shattered and the building's façade had been rent and battered. The rounds slammed through support beams and mortar, splintering the wooden structures and sending fragments of rock and cement throughout the building.

Fina felt another hand on her shoulder. The medic again. Pulling her away from the window, he blocked her view of the shooting. She could still hear the weapon. "I need you to go help your other friend, alright? Can you do that for me?"

"I don't know."

"Fina." All he said was her name. Somehow it was enough.

"I mean… Yeah. Yeah, I'll help him."

He nodded. As Fina grabbed her pack and walked to where Wavy lay waiting, the sound of the gunfire stopped. She didn't know the results. She didn't want to. All she wanted to do was see Wavy alive and well. Reaching Wavy's spot on the floor, she began to work. His injuries were pretty light by comparison. As she worked, she could hear the voices of the Imperials from the other room.

"I want you to send out two patrols to search out where these Gallians came from. They either came from the park or the residential area. I want to know which one and how they snuck through."

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Granted."

"Well… Does it really matter? We took care of them, who cares where they came from?"

"If they made it this far undetected it means we've gotten sloppy about holding our lines. We need to know where they came from and how they snuck through this far. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir… It's just that…"

"Just that what?"

"Sir… We've only got eight days left in our rotation. We were hoping we could lay low a bit. We've done more than our share as it is."

"Our share? What the Hell are you talking about? We're not the regulars. We don't have a quota. We do our job to the T, and we do it every time. I don't care how long our rotation is. Send out those patrols, and find out what happened."

"Yes sir. I'm sorry sir."

The voices stopped. Fina looked down at Wavy. She'd patched him up, and he'd be good to go until they were able to get him to a field hospital. From where she was Fina couldn't tell whether or not Freesia had made it, but she had a feeling that Imperial medic had known what he was doing. Sitting back against the wall, Fina rested for the first time since waking up. She was a POW now. Glancing back down at Wavy, the only thought that ran through her head was that she was just glad she wasn't alone.

* * *

Next Engagement: Locked and Loaded


	20. Locked and Loaded

**Engagement 20: Locked and Loaded**

"Hey. Wake up."

"Hmmm. Dad?"

"Strike one, youngin'."

Ramona opened her eyes. As all memory of the dream she'd been having faded, the blurry image of the man crouched over her came into focus. "Coby?"

"That's better," he said with a smile. "Get up. You're moving out."

"I thought it was 3rd section's turn to take the patrol."

"It was. Something's up. The whole platoon's going. Grab your gear and meet in the staging area."

Ramona rolled over and lifted herself up onto her elbow. The sun hadn't risen yet, and the field was still dark. "What time is it?"

"0450." Groaning, the girl dropped forward onto her stomach. After a long day of fighting she had hoped to get a full night's sleep. Turning over onto her back, she covered her face with her hands and let her head drop back. Coby winced slightly as he brought his hand to the back of his neck. "You alright there, youngin'?"

"Yeah," she said. "Fine. Low blood pressure. Just need something to drink. Maybe a bite to eat."

"We'll have that for you. Get your stuff and let's go."

Finally sitting up, Ramona gathered her equipment. It wasn't until she'd buttoned up her BDU that she realized Coby shouldn't be walking around. "Hey Coby… What are you doing off your stretcher. Weren't you wounded?"

"You kidding?" he scoffed. "I've been through worse. Besides, I wanted to see my replacement off personally."

"Substitute," she corrected. "And just until you're better. I bet I'd look pretty good with those sergeant stripes, but that's your job, not mine."

"Fine. Substitute then. I _still _want to see you all off. My back's been bothering me for years, and I'm not going to let it keep me on the ground while my platoon goes off without me. The least I can do is make sure you're all equipped and set off to my standards."

"Won't even take a sick day?"

"No such thing as a sick day in a warzone, kiddo'," he said as he grabbed her hand and helped her up. The strain of pulling the girl to her feet tore through his back, but he refused to show it. Biting his tongue, he let Ramona step in front of him. With her back to him, she wouldn't be able to see him struggling. "That's your first lesson. No matter what happens to you, you hold to your responsibilities. Even if you take a grenade to the face you keep going – that is if it doesn't kill you outright."

"Wow. Thanks for the encouragement, Coby," Ramona replied, pulling her hair to the side of her head and tying it off. "I feel a whole lot better now."

"I'm serious. Getting shot, getting stabbed… Doesn't matter. You do your duty until you're dead, whatever that duty may be. That's not just being platoon sergeant, either. That's life. No matter where you go or what you're doing. Win, lose… Doesn't matter either. As long as you give it all you've got until you're dead on the floor, you've done well. That's admirable. Remember that."

"You know, I joined the Militia to get _away _from lectures," she said shaking her head.

"Maybe some lectures need to be given."

"I guess…" Staring off into the dark tree line in the distance, she realized that brushing off Coby's advice had probably come off as incredibly brash and cocky. Slowing to let the old man catch up, she turned to face him. "I'm sorry, Coby. I didn't mean it like that. I just…" She trailed off there. That line of thought was a dead end. "Well… Thanks for the advice. I'll keep it in mind."

"That's a start." For a moment the two walked on in silence. Before they'd made it to the staging area, Coby grabbed Ramona on the shoulder, halting her stride and turning them face to face. "Could you do something else for me?"

"Hm? Yeah, what is it?"

"Look after Catherine for me."

Coby didn't react to the look of shock on her face. "You mean… Staff Sergeant O'Hara?"

"Catherine, Staff Sergeant O'Hara… Whatever you want to call her. Yes. To be honest, I didn't get up just for you. I wanted to see her off as well. We have a long history with each other and I always get a bad feeling when I'm not around to make sure she'll be alright."

"So the Sergeant is babysitting his superior?" Ramona chuckled.

"Laugh if you want. Maybe it is a bit funny, an old man worrying about a grown woman, but I'm being completely serious. Will you do that for me?"

Something about the old man's earnest stare put Ramona off. The man was over three times her age, but he reminded her of a kid only half her age. "Coby… I don't know what to say."

"I'd feel better if you said yes."

"Yes."

"Good." Stepping forward, Coby signaled for them to move on. Stepping into the staging area, the two could see that most of the platoon hadn't arrived yet. Lieutenant Gunther stood at the edge of one of the small tables with Staff Sergeant O'Hara, and only four or five other troops had assembled. Seizing the extra time, Ramona grabbed a pack of juice from one of the supply crates. She didn't know if it was hers to take, but she figured her blood pressure would give her an excuse if anyone brought it up. Sipping the drink, she waited as the minutes passed and people started to trickle in.

"Hey, Ramona…"

She turned her head. Karl had a worried look on his face. She had to remember she wasn't the only person filling someone else's position today. "Relax Karl. You've been a great assistant section leader, and you'll do fine actually leading it. Besides, Cherry will have your back. Don't worry too much."

"Hm? Oh. Yeah. Leading the unit. It's not that."

"No? Then what's the matter?"

Karl fiddled with his glasses as if he were apprehensive about going on. After a moment of thought, he decided to continue. "Have you seen Lynn around?"

"She's not sleeping?"

"No. At least, I don't think so. She went to sleep next to me, but she was gone when I woke up."

"It's not your breath, is it?" Ramona jabbed.

"My… Breath? Is it that bad?"

"I was kidding, Karl. No, I haven't seen her. She probably just wondered off to the head or something and couldn't find her way back in the dark."

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm sure that's it. Thanks."

"No problem." Taking another swig, Ramona watched as the rest of the Militia soldiers gathered and formed up around the table. Moving next to Catherine, she looked over the platoon. Militia platoons weren't exact translations of their army counterparts. In fact, they were a lot smaller. Army platoons were more like an entire Militia Squad – Usually led by a lieutenant and divided into four or so "sections". Militia platoons were smaller, and were led by a staff sergeant instead of a lieutenant. The platoon commander would have control of two smaller "sections", totaling to about 25 soldiers in all – only half of what an army platoon often consisted of. While she wouldn't have minded an extra 25 troopers by her side, Ramona was glad that she could gain some experience leading a smaller number of units.

Next to the two women, Lieutenant Gunther stepped forward. "I'm sorry to get you all up so early," he said, "but we need to move fast." There wouldn't be an easy way to say it, so he just decided to go for it. "Earlier this morning 2nd Army lost contact with an observation post east of here. We sent 1st section in to check it out and… We lost contact with them too."

"Lost… What?" Ramona didn't have to look up to know the look on Karl's face. She could hear it in his voice.

"They were at the outpost when we received their last transmission. They had two men down. After that… I don't know."

"Do you… Know who was hit?"

"I'm sorry Karl. No I don't. I've already briefed Staff Sergeant O'Hara on the situation. She'll take you from here. Be careful."

Leaving the staging area, Welkin left the floor open for Catherine. "Make sure you've got all of your combat gear and then some," she said. "We're just about guaranteed to run into something out there. Grab what you need. We'll leave in five." As the rest of the platoon spread out to the supply crates surrounding the area, Catherine pulled Ramona off to the side. "Keep an eye on Karl, and make sure he's properly equipped and set to go. If you see anything shaky about him, be prepared to relieve him of duty."

"Yes sir." Platoon sergeant for ten minutes and she already had two people to watch over. Those sergeant stripes were looking less attractive by the minute. Carefully, she walked next to Karl. The blood had drained from his face, and his hands were shaking too much to pick up the magazines he was reaching for. "You need me to get that for you, Karl?"

Nearly jumping, he pulled his hand back. "No," he said quickly. "I can get it. I'm alright."

"You don't look alright."

"Well I am."

"Whatever you say."

After a moment of fumbling, Karl grabbed a pair of the magazines and managed to slip them into his rig. He placed his hands on the edge of the crate before reaching in for more. "Lynn… You think she's alright?"

"I-I'm sure she's fine," Ramona replied, silently cursing herself for stumbling.

"I mean it. Do you think they're OK? Don't… Don't lie if you don't. Please."

Ramona nearly froze. How could she know? This was the second time in a day she'd found a grown man pleading to her like a child, and the day had just started. "You're going to need more ammo than that," she said changing the subject. "Fill your rig. We don't know when we'll be back for more."

"Sure," he replied feebly.

_Crap, _she thought walking away. Her first assignment as platoon sergeant and she'd already half botched it. Vowing to keep an eye on him, she walked off to check on the rest of the platoon and equip herself. After filling her own rig with rifle and handgun magazines, she began checking to make sure everyone was set. She smiled when she found Cherry filling her pack. "How's Wendy doing?"

"She's totally set to go," Cherry replied, stroking the .30 caliber machine gun on the table next to her. Wendy Cheslock's old .30 caliber machine gun, to be exact. As Wendy's only machine gun crew member, Cherry knew more about the weapon's operation than anyone else in the platoon. After Wendy was killed and the gun was passed on to her, she ceremoniously named it after its previous owner.

"You set on ammo for that thing?"

"Claudia's got it."

"That's that then." Satisfied, she took another quick look around the area. Near the far corner of the crates something caught her eye. "Oh my… Cherry, check it out."

"What?"

"Over there."

Cherry followed the finger Ramona had pointed. On the other end of the invisible line it traced, Marina stood with her back resting on one of the large boxes. "She's… already chewing gum. What is it, like, five in the morning?"

"Just barely."

"Does she… Eat that stuff for breakfast."

"That's totally disgusting. I'll bet she does."

"I mean, I like my gum, but she just takes it to…"

"Hey, is something going on?" The two girls turned to face the voice. Walking towards the staging area was Elysse Moore.

"Elysse!" Cherry cried, "You're better?"

"It was just a graze. If I wasn't hit in the boat I wouldn't have been pulled out at all. In fact I probably would have walked out of it myself if it wasn't for Salinas..."

"Oh? How's he doing?"

"He'll be fine," she said. "Pretty nasty hit to the shoulder though. It'll be a little while before he's fit to come back out."

"Too bad. He's kind of cute."

"I guess," Elysse laughed. "It's good to be back myself though, and I've got lots of stories. Everyone is up so early though... What's going on?"

Ramona and Cherry shared a sideways glance. Elysse was part of 1st section. Her timing in returning couldn't have been much worse. "Well..." Ramona said, "The rest of 1st section went on a patrol this morning and we lost contact with them. We're... We're going to go find them, so don't worry. We'll get them."

"They're... Missing?"

"Only until we find them," Cherry assured. "We've totally got their backs."

Elysse averted her eyes. Lowering her voice, she it took her a moment before she could respond. "Oh... I just... Wanted to see them when I got back, you know? I've got a bunch of stories for Homer and..."

"Elysse?"

"Ramona?"

_Dammit. _She didn't want to have to be the messenger, but it seemed the duty was thrust upon her anyway. A lot of that seemed be going on lately. "Homer... Homer's dead, Elysse."

It took a moment for the words to register. "He..." Dealing with her unit being missing was one thing. The confirmed death of her best friend was another. "H...How?"

"He died in an explosion two nights ago. Along with Wendy."

After watching Elysse close her eyes, Ramona looked away. If she stared any longer she would have burst into tears herself. Surprisingly, Elysse didn't. "When are you leaving?" she said instead.

"About three minutes."

"It'll take me two to gear up. Mind if I tag along?"

The question took Ramona by surprise. The sheer change in the girl's focus was astounding. She'd gone from complete shock to absolute determination in the span of about five seconds. Ramona knew that if their roles had been reversed, she'd currently be curled up in a tiny ball crying herself to sleep. "That'll be up to Staff Sergeant O'Hara, but I'm sure we can work something out. Grab your stuff and get set to go."

"...Thanks." Leaving to gather supplies, Elysse left the two girls in silence.

Within minutes, their time was up. "Form up!" Catherine's voice cut across the staging area. Silently, Ramona took her place next to the sniper, who slowly walked up and down the line, individually checking each soldier in front of her. After a number of strides, she stopped in front of Ramsey. "Clement, do you have a pack?"

"Yes sir," she replied, "but I can't take it if I've got the radio."

Catherine stopped in thought for a moment. "Drop the radio. Nadine's got that covered. Grab your pack and fill it with as much ammo as you can carry. I don't want anyone getting caught out there empty handed."

"Yes sir!" Following Catherine's instructions, Ramsey began to fill her combat pack. When she'd finished, Catherine moved onto the next person in question.

"Moore, what are you doing here?"

"I'd like to come with you, sir. I just got back, but I'm all set to go. I don't have a unit until we find them... So... I thought I might as well help."

"Might as well," Catherine said with a smile. "3rd section is down a lancer anyway, and you can fill in there. You'll be under Corporal Wulfstan and Lance Corporal Daerden. Just follow their lead."

"Thank you sir!"

Satisfied with the platoon, Catherine stepped back and addressed everyone. "We may have lost contact with 1st section, but that doesn't mean they're dead. We're bringing them back." There were a couple of nods in the crowd. Karl still looked like a ghost. "We're bound to run into some resistance out there, so keep alert and don't let your guard down. Corporal Linton will be filling in for Sergeant Caird, and Karl will be filling in for her in turn. Make sure you're familiar with the chain of command. Understand?"

There were a few more nods, but most of the platoon stared blankly. "Hey!" Coby yelled from behind Catherine. "The Staff Sergeant asked a question! Do you understand?"

"Yes sir," the group shouted in unison.

Turning her head slightly, Catherine just barely caught the old man throwing her a wink. "Where would I be without you, Coby?" she whispered.

"You'd be dead, Catherine."

"Yeah…" Her smile faded, and her tone turned instantly from caring to morose. "I guess so." Giving herself a moment, she swept her eyes over the platoon one last time. "We're all set. Let's get moving." Stepping forward, the platoon began its march out of the park.

Looking back, Ramona could see Coby watching the soldiers make their way into the city. The look on his face was eerily familiar. It took her a moment, but she finally placed it. It was the same look she'd seen on a little boy in that old silent movie when the cowboy the kid had grown to love rode out of town in the end, never to return. Something about that look made her sick to her stomach. The sun was beginning to rise. She hoped to see it set.

* * *

Next Engagement: Snipers


	21. Snipers

**Engagement 21: Snipers**

It ended with a thud. From on her back, Catherine looked up out of the trench and into the sky above. She couldn't breathe – the landing had taken the air from her lungs – but she was safe. That had to count for something. As she fought for air, more Militiamen dropped back into the trench. Most landed quite a bit more gracefully than she had, but nobody really cared to notice grace - even from a fifteen year old girl. Safety was everything, and she had that. Pulling in a quick gasp, Catherine lifted herself off of her back and rested against the trench wall. The mud and dirt stuck to her uniform as she shifted and added a fresh layer of grime to her already covered equipment. If she were to lie down on her stomach it would almost be impossible to tell her apart from the ground.

After taking a few more shallow breaths, Catherine felt a hand grab her by the arm. "Come on," a voice said, "on your feet. It'll do you some good to walk around a bit."

Almost in a daze, she looked at the man who had helped her up. "Coby. Thanks."

The man nodded and patted her on the shoulder. "No problem, private. You were doing some nice shooting out there. How many did you get?"

"I got one."

Coby gave out a low whistle. "That brings you up to two now, doesn't it?"

"Yes. That's two."

Once more Coby looked the girl up and down. Squinting his eyes, he shook his head and smiled. "I'll be damned. Three weeks in and you've already got two under your belt. You're a natural marksman, if I say so myself."

"No," she said, brushing the sweat off of her forehead under her helmet. The dirt on her hand left a long streak of mud across her skin. "I missed that third one. And then the fourth. I could have gotten them if I were better."

"Better comes with experience, and you're well above the curve already. I'm telling you O'Hara – You're a natural."

"Thanks. I think."

"You think right," he said laughing. "I do have one question though. What were you just doing on your back?"

"I rolled into the trench." Rolling was a bit of a stretch. Fell was more like it. After the Gallians had repelled the Imperial assault, Catherine knew that they'd cover their tracks with another shelling. Having been caught in the open the first time, she had no intention of repeating the escapade. Being shelled in no man's land once was too many times already. In her mad dash back to safety, she tripped on the uneven terrain just outside the lip of the trench. Not exactly rolling, she flipped over into the trench and landed on her back. Thankfully, the mud and dirt at the bottom had been soft enough to break her fall. At least mostly.

"Rolled? Well, whatever keeps you alive."

"Yeah. Still alive. How about the others?"

"Don't know. We lost Brad and Jake though, I saw that. Hit by the same shell…"

"Oh." She hadn't known them very well, but a loss was still a loss. They had been nice enough guys, though a number of years older than her, and she had been looking forward to getting to know them better. Didn't matter now. Move on to something that did. "Do you know if Alice and Marco are alright?"

"Told you, I don't know kiddo'. How about you take a look around for yourself? Can't let us old folks tell you what's what all your life. Find something for yourself."

"Thank you, Mr. Caird. I'll go do that."

"Please, just Coby. I'm not that old."

"Not yet, at least," Catherine said with a wink. Brushing off the front of her pants, she set off down the trench to find her friends. The trench was now full of grunts who had just returned from the battle up top, and the men and women patted each other on the back or joked a bit or smoked to wind down. The second shelling Catherine had expected never came. It was strangely quiet despite what had just occurred. Passing the troops by she smiled and waved, grateful that her Squad mates were safe, but she was looking for two in particular. She hadn't come across them yet. Further down she passed a group of Militiamen surrounding a man propped up against the wall. Pausing for only a moment, she saw the jagged piece of metal sticking out of his side under his right arm. Looking away, she quickly moved on and let a corpsman pass her by to help him.

With her mind still on the injured man, Catherine didn't notice the man standing in front of her until she'd bumped into him. Staggering back, she regained her footing and steadied her balance. "I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking where…" She noticed who it was. "Lieutenant Waite sir! I'm sorry sir. I didn't mean to bump into you sir."

"Relax, O'Hara. Everyone's still a bit shaken up. It's not a big deal." The Squad leader took off his helmet and ruffled his brown hair. While his uniform was originally blue, it had been stained the same muddy brown as Catherine's. "You doing alright? That was quite a fight up there."

"Yes sir. I'm fine. A little shaken, but fine."

"Good. You've been doing a great job since you joined Squad 3. I'm proud of you. Keep up the good work."

"Thank you sir."

The lieutenant shook the remaining dirt out of his hair as he put his helmet back on. "Just make sure you get refitted. I don't know about you, but that last fight nearly left me empty. Only got one magazine left."

"That's because you carry all that equipment instead of ammo, sir. I've still got four left."

"Maybe so," he laughed. "Still, it'll come in handy when I need it. Go grab some more ammo anyway. Can't be caught off guard."

"Yes sir, I'll do that." She almost continued on, but stopped herself before she left. "Sir?"

"Yes private?"

"Have you seen Alice and Marco around?"

"The Kennard twins?"

"Yes sir."

He thought for a moment. After a few seconds O'Hara thought it might be quicker if she just went and looked herself. "Hmm," he said finally. "Yeah, I saw them further down, I think. Keep moving on and you'll run into them eventually."

They were safe then. "Thank you sir."

"No problem, private."

Instantly relieved, Catherine moved further down the trench. They were alive and well, she just had to find them. Slipping past other men in the confines of the narrow trench, she found the two near the far end of Squad 3's position. At 16 they were a year older than her, but they'd become good friends since she'd been assigned to the Squad. The two had been in the trenches longer than Catherine, but they were relatively new as well. Though they were twins, they were far from identical. While they shared the same brown eyes, Alice's hair was a good couple of shades lighter than Marco's black hair, and she was taller by about two inches. All told, they were a good looking set of twins. Marco was certainly handsome for his age. Catherine didn't notice though. They were too good of friends for that.

"Hey," she said walking up to the two. "You guys make it alright?"  
"Just fine," Alice said. "Marco here almost bought it for us though."

Marco blocked the swing Alice sent towards his arm. "Hey, if I hadn't slipped we wouldn't have taken cover in the crater we did. Last I checked it wasn't hit."

"I'm just giving you a hard time. I mean, you can't keep on your feet worth anything. Isn't that crazy Catherine?"

"Uh… Yeah," she said remembering her own fall into the trench. "That's just clumsy. Learn to keep to your feet."

"I slipped. We're fine. What's the big deal?"

"The big deal is that if you slip at the wrong time you're going to get hit, and I don't want to have to tell mom you got offed 'cuz you're clumsy."

"Well what about you? You were the one who tripped last time."

Alice took another light swing. This one connected. "I was diving for cover."

"Diving for… You're kidding me. You landed flat on your ass."

"What? I…" Catherine smiled through the twins' argument. She didn't have any siblings of her own, and watching the two go at each other almost made her feel like she was part of the family. While the twins argued, their voices drowned out as Catherine took a look around the trench. More and more Militiamen were beginning to settle down. With both sides having made an attempt at an advance it would likely be a little while before there was another battle. The dirt on the trench wall was slick but firm. Following it up Catherine could see the sky above. There was no horizon in the trench. There was only the wall and the sky. The only time she could see a horizon was when she was being shot at. "…as reliable as Catherine…" Alice's voice cut back in and Catherine heard her name. Time to pay attention again. "…you wouldn't always…"

* * *

"Are you sure this is the right way Staff Sergeant?"

Ted's question brought Catherine out of the trenches and back onto the streets in an instant. The dark, cloudy sky above the trenches gave way to the clear, cloudless one hanging over the city, and morning's first rays of light shown through the buildings and onto the cobble stone roads as the sun slowly rose above the horizon. Catherine sighed. "Yes, Ustinov. We're going the right way." They were fifteen minutes out of the park, and had traveled about a third of the way to the observation post.

"It's just… I don't remember anything like this on the map."

Catherine looked ahead of the platoon. To their left the buildings dropped off, and a low wall took their place. Of course, the wall was mostly rubble now, but the mounds of rubble lining the rode did the same job as they'd done before the wall had been destroyed. It was just a lot messier. "Linton," she said, wanting to use the opportunity to double-check the map herself. "Map."

"Yes sir." Bounding over to where Catherine and Ted were standing, Ramona swung her pack around and pulled out a map of the city. Opening it for the group to see, she set it down on the ground. "Here."

Kneeling, Catherine traced their position on the map. "We're right where we're supposed to be, Ustinov. We follow this road down for a while and then turn off to hit the OP."

"Yes sir. Sorry, I just wanted to make sure."

"Don't apologize. It's always good to double check." Folding up the map, she handed it back to Ramona. "We've got a ways to go, though, and we don't know how long 1st section can wait. No time for putzing around. Let's keep going." O'Hara led the platoon past the remaining stoops and halted at the corner of the last building. Dropping to where the low wall connected with the building, she supported her rifle at the edge and scanned the area beyond. There was a large clearing just beyond the wall, stretching about 200 meters before a new line of buildings came into sight. One by one, Catherine checked them for Imperials. Empty. "We're clear. Regard, Wulfstan – Keep an eye on those buildings as we advance. You see any movement shoot on sight."

Pushing the platoon forward, Catherine continued down the road. Loose rocks and chunks of concrete littered the sidewalk near the ruined wall, and the mess it created on the ground made movement hazardous. Kicking one of the stones aside, she kept her eyes on the road ahead. There wouldn't be much cover if an Imperial unit attacked them from down the street. Behind her, Cezary and Marina kept their eyes on the buildings past the clearing. With her eye brought up to her scope, Marina scanned the windows and rooftops. Still nothing. Concentrating completely on the view through her scope, she stumbled on one of the loose fragments on the ground.

Catching her by the arm, Ramona helped the sniper steady herself. "You good?"

"Fine… Apologies."

"Don't worry about it."

"Hm." Back on her feet, the marksman looked down her scope as she walked, but took her steps more carefully.

Continuing down the road, Catherine reached the end of the wall. The closest building on their road was still about 50 meters ahead, but the wall dropped off. She looked back before she continued. The rest of the platoon was following closely, with Ted immediately behind her. The two snipers were covering the buildings. They'd be clear to advance. Watching her step, she moved on. Though the wall ended, fragments had been sent in every direction, and if she wasn't careful one of them would send her to the ground. Of course, Catherine was always careful. Others weren't.

"Ouch!" Catherine turned to see Ted on his rear. A loose chunk of concrete rolled to a stop ahead of him, making a crashing sound as it struck the cobblestone.

Stepping back, Catherine reached her hand down to help him up. "Clumsy, Ustinov."

Ted took her hand and began to lift himself off of the ground. "Sorry sir. Didn't see that one."

"It's no big deal. Just keep your eyes open. I'd hate for you to buy it because you were clumsy."

"You know me. Anything for a laugh, even if it's at my own expense."

Looking up, Catherine could see that at least half the platoon was laughing at him. "I guess a laugh is a laugh," she said when he'd found his feet. His rifle was still on the ground though. "Pick up your weapon and let's keep going."

"Nah, don't wait for clumsy ol' me."

As he reached down for the weapon, Catherine couldn't help but notice how much Ted reminded her of her old friend. Dark hair, about the same age… mostly because he was clumsy. She hadn't seen Marco fall that day, but she imagined it looked something like Ted slipping on the rubble. A smile spread across her face. She'd been clumsy that day as well. Though she didn't know it at the time, lying breathless on her back at the bottom of that trench marked one of the happiest times of her life. Ted's slip brought those memories back. For at least a moment she was happy. Things were… good.

The next thing she knew she was back on the trench floor gasping for air – only this time the floor was stone and there weren't any walls. She didn't know how she got there. All she knew was that she was on her back and there was a heavy pressure on her chest.

"Down!"

"Shit!"

"Cover!"

Catherine couldn't tell the voices apart. They were coming in too fast and too garbled to make them out. Letting them drown out, she rolled onto her side. She could breathe a little more easily that way. With her head resting on the ground she could see the rest of the platoon dropping under the rubble of the ruined wall. She could also see the horizon behind them. The road continued down a long way before winding off to the right. There weren't any buildings at the end of the road. Instead, a small cluster of trees stood in a miniature garden, and the sun was starting to rise over them. It was really pretty. Horizons were nice.

Scrambling, the rest of the platoon dropped below the wall. Rising up only enough to shoot, they opened fire on the line of buildings across the clearing. Looking around, Ramona saw that besides herself, only the two snipers, Karl, and the lancers weren't taking part in the barrage. If the snipers weren't shooting, something was wrong. _Someone needs to tell them to stop, _she thought to herself. It took a second before it dawned on her that it was her job.

"Hold your fire!" she yelled. Her order went ignored. Hannes even began to reload, stopping only long enough to put a fresh magazine in the weapon before laying down a new stream of fire. "Everybody, cease fire!" Nothing. Even from this distance she could see the bullets tearing through the buildings; ripping holes through the brick and tearing chunks out of the walls. Windows shattered and broken fragments of glass glittered in the air as they fell to the ground. She couldn't tell what anybody was shooting at. By the looks of things they couldn't either. "I said cease fucking fire!"

That worked. Stopping the onslaught, the platoon members dropped back below the rubble. By the looks on their faces, they hadn't expected yelling like that from her. Any other time she would have been satisfied. Instead she was terrified. "Did anybody even see a shooter?"

Nobody answered. They'd been wasting their ammo shooting shadows. "Alright, everybody keep your heads below the wall." Taking a breath, Ramona leaned forward. Ahead of where the wall dropped off she could see Catherine still lying on the ground. She was bleeding from a hole in her upper torso, but she was still alive. "Mina, anything you can do?"

The woman moved forward in a crouch. Reaching the end of the wall, she looked over Catherine's injuries. "I can help her; I just need to get close."

"Can you?"

"I think so… If I…"

"N-No." Catherine's voice was weak, but Mina could hear it from the edge of the wall. There was a rasping sound as she took in a breath. "S-Stay b-back."

"She says to stay back," Mina relayed. "I can't help her until we clear the shooter."

Clear the shooter. Just kill one person. Not difficult – if they knew where he was. "Any ideas?" Ramona asked.

"He wasn't in any of those buildings." To her right, Cezary leaned his rifle against the rubble as he spoke. "I didn't hear the shot until she was down. He's far."

"Sniper then?"

"Sniper. A good one, too. Got her right through her center of mass. He knows what he's doing."

Ramona looked over the two snipers. Marina's weapon wouldn't work for counter sniping, but Cezary's would. "Can you guys take him out?"

"Of course I can," Cezary balked. "He's good, but I'm better. We just need to find him first."

"And how exactly do we do that?"

Cezary looked through his pack, but didn't take anything out. "I need…" searching down the line, he looked every Gallian in the face. He stopped at Cherry. Sobbing, the girl's makeup was running down her cheeks. "There. Call Cherry up here."

"Hey! Hey Cherry!" Ramona waved as she called out to her friend. Stopping to sniffle, Cherry looked up. "We need you up here, OK?"

Cherry looked over at O'Hara before moving next to her friend. She was still conscious, but the rasping sound of her breathing had stopped. Holding back more tears, she crouched next to the snipers. "Yeah?"

"How are you doing, Cherry? You doing OK?"

"I… Catherine…"

"Hey, I need you to focus, girl." Cezary cut in. "You need to stop bawling and…"

Ramona took her turn to cut in. "Cezary. She's half traumatized. Don't be an ass."

The sniper rolled his eyes. "Fine, whatever."

"Just be nice for once."

Waiting for a couple of seconds, Cezary gave Cherry a chance to stop crying. After a moment of relative calm, he looked her in the eyes. "Your makeup looks really nice today, Cherry."

"My what?"

"Your makeup."

The girl balled her hands into fists. "The Staff Sergeant is dying and you call me over to say I look nice?" New tears began to well up in her eyes. These ones were from anger.

"Your makeup kit. Do you still have it?"

"What, you like, want to touch yourself up? I bet you would."

Cezary gave an exasperated gasp. "The _mirror _in your kit, dumbass! Where is it?"

"You could have just asked for that in the first place…" Cherry began to sort through her pack. After a minute of looking around she came out empty handed. "I think I left it on one of the tables in the field last night. I don't have it."

"Wonderful," he said sarcastically. "I assume by your quite plain looking face that you're not carrying anything, right Linton?"

"Plain looking?" Rage welled up in her gut, but she was interrupted before she could chew him out.

"Do you have one or not?"

"No," she answered curtly. "I ran out yesterday. Heitinga's empty as well. We dropped the kits last night."

For a second time Cezary looked over the platoon. Nobody else had any makeup on. Looking back to the group, he paused at Marina before shaking his head. "Well, there goes that idea."

"Shit," Marina replied.

"Yeah. Smartest reply I've gotten all day. I swear they need to issue us mirrors. There's no telling how handy those things can…"

"Here."

Cezary was stopped in his tracks. Next to him, Marina offered up a small square box. "What's this?"

"It's a… Makeup kit."

He had to look twice. Taking the kit, he flipped it over once or twice in his hands before he looked her in the face. "You?"

"You?" she barked. "What the Hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I just…"

"You just what?"

Every smartass comment in his inventory vanished under her glare. Holding back a gulp, he did what he did best when confronted like that. Brown nosed. "Just nothing. It looks… Really nice." She didn't respond, but she did lighten her glare. Safe for the moment, Cezary brought his attention to the kit. With a mirror he could scope out potential sniper nests without exposing himself. Satisfied with the catch, he opened the kit to find it filled with… eyeliner. If irony could kill. With any other person's kit he would have dumped the contents onto the ground. This time, he carefully gathered the contents and handed them to Cherry. "Take good care of these," he said.

Pressing his back up against the ruined wall, he slowly raised the mirror over the top. The sun was still low enough on the horizon that a glare giving him away wouldn't be too much of a worry. Finding the row of buildings in the reflection, he began to swivel the mirror, scanning each area carefully in order to find the best possible positions. The image was distorted, but it would give him a general idea of the area. "Anything?" Marina asked.

"Nothing yet." He continued to work the mirror from side to side. "It couldn't have been from those buildings. They're too close. I'd put him 6…700 meters out at least. I wasn't watching when it happened, but I saw her down before I heard it."

"And there's nothing behind those buildings?"

"Give me a minute…"

"We don't exactly have a minu…"

"There." He stopped the mirror. The image was blurry, but he was sure of what he saw. "High-rise. It's out there. Just barely tucked between a couple of the buildings ahead of us. Probably why we didn't see it."

"Any idea on range?"

"No," he shook his head. "No way to tell through the distortion. We'll have to look over to get a better idea." Cezary passed the mirror to Marina. Lying against the wall, she lifted the mirror and repeated his process. "It's between the two buildings with the tiled roofs. Got it?"

"Yeah," she replied after a moment. "I got it."

"Good. Grab the scope and we'll get to it."

Closing the kit, Marina handed it to Cherry. "Who's got the spotting scope?"

"Was it Claudia?"

Marina looked down the line. Claudia was sitting six people down. "Hey Mann! Bring up the spotting scope!"

Claudia looked up at the sound of her name. "The what?"

"The spotting scope!"

With a worried look, the engineer searched through her pack. "I don't have it!" she yelled back after she'd gone through everything.

"Who does?"

"I think O'Hara had it."

_Dammit. _Back to square one. The spotting scope wasn't an option. She would have to make do with what was on hand. "Linton, hand me your binoculars."

Ramona didn't question. Handing the sniper her binoculars, she shouted back to the woman. "How's she doing, doc?"

"Still alive," she responded. "She's not conscious though. You need to hurry."

Ramona kicked a loose piece of rubble, sending it rolling out into the street. This wasn't how things were supposed to be happening. Holding back another curse, she turned to the snipers. "Can you guys make quick work of this?"

"Depends," Cezary replied.

"On what?"

"On how good he really is. We'll do what we can. Past that, don't bother us while we work."

As always, he was an insensitive jackass. Still, anything they needed to do to get the job done quickly was alright by her. "Fine. Just get it done."

Finding a spot on the wall with a decent amount of rubble covering the lip, Cezary readied his rifle. With Ramona's binoculars, Marina waited. After making sure the rifle was set, Cezary patted her on the shoulder. "Ready?"

"Yeah."

Slowly, they propped themselves above the wall. Without making any sudden movements, Cezary rested his rifle in a crevice between two piles of loose stones. With only his head and parts of the rifle exposed he kept himself as concealed as possible. "Alright," he said finding the building in his scope. "I see it. You?"

Marina lifted the binoculars to her eyes. "I'm on it."

"Alright, good. You got a range for me?"

Looking through the binoculars, she had a clear view of the building. There were no markers on the lenses of the binoculars. "Don't have the scope. There aren't any dots on the binoculars."

Without any way to mark ranges, she wouldn't be able to tell. Cezary looked down his own scope. He had the mil-dots to determine range, but he wasn't as good with math as Wulfstan was. He'd need to write it down. "I need some paper and a pen or pencil," he shouted down without looking out of the scope. "Hurry it up."

Ramona thought for a moment. She'd seen Nadine writing something earlier, and she probably carried writing supplies with her. "One second," she said. Moving down, she found Nadine next to Nils and Karl. "Nadine, do you still have your writing stuff?"

"You mean my book? Yes."

"We need it up front. A pen too."

"Would a pencil be fine?"

"Sure, as long as it writes."

Within a moment, Nadine had pulled out a small notebook and a pencil. She looked a little worried handing it to Ramona. "Take care of it, and… Don't read it."

"Sure thing." Grabbing the notebook, she started her run back to the snipers. Considering where the book came from, she decided it wouldn't be a great idea to tell Cezary. Finding most of the pages already filled, she opened the notebook to the last page before handing it over to the sniper.

Using one of the building's windows as a guide, Cezary began to work the math. Moving the pencil as quickly as he could across the page, he made quick work of the equations. The last bit gave him pause. Looking up, he had a direct line of sight with the high-rise. If he could see them, they could see him. _No time for this… _"Wulfstan. 1196 divided by 1.3."

She closed her eyes for a moment. "920."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," she replied after a moment of thinking. "I'm sure. Is that the range?"

"As long as you didn't fuck up your part of the math, yeah."

Cezary didn't look over, but he imagined a burning sensation in the back of his neck. He knew she probably hadn't dropped the binoculars, but an imagined glare worked just as well. "I didn't," she said.

"You better not have." Now that he knew the range, he just had to find the target. Painstakingly slow, he searched every visible inch of the building. He couldn't tell how much of the high-rise was obstructed by the row of buildings in front of them, but there were seven stories visible above their roofs. It would be difficult search. Panning the scope's view over the building, he almost missed the movement on the third visible floor's balcony. Almost. "Got them," he said.

"Yeah, I just got them myself. On the roof."

"The roof?" Adjusting his aim, Cezary scanned the rooftop. Sure enough, a sniper and his spotter sat barely visible over the edge. "That makes two teams then. I saw a pair on the balcony. Third floor, fourth room."

Cezary gave her a moment to catch sight of them. "OK," she said. "I've got them too."

"Who do you want to take first?"

She thought for a couple of seconds. "What are the guys on the balcony packing?"

Again, Cezary shifted his aim to the men on the balcony. Focusing on the sniper's weapon, he looked for distinguishing features. "Looks like…" That couldn't be right. "He's carrying a ZM SG 4. Maybe 5."

Marina squinted in surprise behind the binoculars. "At that range?" ZM SGs were certainly powerful enough to do the damage they'd done to Catherine, but they traded for that power at the cost of accuracy. "He might be working as a designated marksman," she reasoned. "Covering for the other team at close ranges. What are they carrying?"

"They're carrying the same."

"Could be a really good shot?"

"Maybe. I'm not convinced."

"Either way, we don't have time to mess around." Marina took one last scan of the building. "Let's finish up."

"Yeah, alright. I'm going for the balcony first." The two teams seemed to have divided their sectors in half, and the sniper on the balcony looked like he was covering the area they'd used to set up their sniping position. He'd be the first threat. Using his thumb, Cezary flicked his rifle's safety. "Weapon's hot."

"Understood," Marina said adjusting her view through the binoculars. "I've got eyes on the target. What's your zero?"

"750 meters." There wasn't any time to adjust his scope. He'd have to accommodate for the range manually. "Am I clear to fire?"

"Go ahead."

Placing the tip of his finger on the trigger, Cezary put the sniper in his scope. Taking a breath, he let the air out of his lungs. Drawing on the trigger he fired his first shot. Rocking back, the weapon kicked his shoulder and the expanding gasses sent loose dust and small stones from the wall floating through the air. A second later, the bullet impacted the building just above and to the right of the target. Flinching, the Imperial swerved his weapon towards the area Cezary had fired from, and his spotter searched frantically through his scope. "You're off," Marina said. "Drop one and move left one half."

"Yeah, yeah…" he grumbled. Sliding his rifle's bolt, he blocked the cartridge's ejection with his gloved hand and slid it behind him down the wall. Any metal flying through the air or the sight of an expended shell casing lying on the wall could give away his position. With another round chambered, he readied his second shot.

"They're looking for us," Marina said next to him. "Roof too. Make this quick. Clear to fire."

"Just shut up and let me shoot." Emptying his lungs, Cezary corrected his aim. His second shot roared through the quiet of the morning, and another cloud of dust shot off the wall.

"Hit. Take the spotter."

Cezary was already working the bolt. In his rush to ready the next shot, the expended cartridge slipped through his fingers and flew through the air, striking the wall meters to his right before rolling forward onto the ground ahead. _Not good. _He couldn't worry about that now though. If the spotter got away they'd have bigger worries on their hands. Through the scope he watched as the spotter noticed the fresh hole in his partner's helmet. Scrambling, he reached for the rifle before getting up to run for cover. He never made it. Though he wouldn't have heard the shot for another two seconds, the bullet Cezary fired a second before took him through the torso, ripping through his chest plate and throwing him into the wall behind him.

"Hit. Move on to the roof."

One team down. With another left to go he shifted the rifle until he caught sight of the second team. The view through his scope gave him a slight pause. They were looking straight at him. Before he could react, the Imperial's muzzle exploded. "Down!" Marina shouted next to him. Instinctively, Cezary pressed himself as close to the wall as humanly possible. No sooner had he dropped and Marina finished yelling, the round struck the wall three meters to their left. _They really are_ _good, _he thought. He also wondered what had given them away. The shell? The clouds of dust after a discharge? Something else? In any case, their position had been compromised.

Sliding off of the wall, Marina crouched back down next to Ramona. She halted when she noticed Cezary hadn't followed her. "Regard, what are you doing?"

"I'm better than he is," he replied, returning to his scope.

"He's got us marked, Regard. We'll relocate and take him then."

"He could move."

"We can't have two…" A second round struck the wall, this one much closer to the sniper than the first. A few moments later it was followed by a light pop. "Dammit Cezary, just get down here!"

"Stop pestering me…" He guessed he'd only have one shot before the Imperial got his aim adjusted. The SG was a notoriously difficult weapon to fire at longer ranges, but this sniper obviously had experience. Deliberatly, Cezary steadied his aim. He watched as the other sniper steadied his. Still, he took his time. The fastest shot wasn't always the best. As it turned out, he was slower by only about a quarter of a second. Ignoring the flash in his scope, Cezary fired a shot of his own. The Imperial's round struck the wall in front of him, sending secondary fragments flying into his face. His round exited through the back of the Imperial's head, dragging fragments of the man's helmet and a light mist behind it. Two down. Struggling to re-steady his weapon, he aimed for the now running spotter. For the fifth time, he pulled the rifle's trigger. His shot was low, but it hit. Striking the man at kidney level, the round tore through his side and dropped him below the roof's siding. "Got em'," he called down.

Marina propped herself back up next to him. "You know how stupid that was?"

"I got them, didn't I?"

She sighed. Both targets _were _down. But for how long? "They down for good?"

"The sniper's dead for sure. Spotter I hit low. I doubt he's getting back up."

"Alright then." Turning, Marina waved over to Mina. "You're clear!"

Before she could fully stand, another shout sent Mina back down. "Stay where you are, we're not finished!"

Marina looked over at the other sniper. His eyes hadn't left the scope. "What are you talking about?"

"There's got to be a third team up there somewhere."

Leaning back again, Marina looked over to where Catherine was lying on the ground. A stream of blood had pooled on the road in front of her and leaked into the crevices between the cobble stones. "How sure of this are you?"

"One hundred ten percent. I guarantee it."

"O'Hara can't wait for this."

"Well," he said reluctantly while wiping the drips of sweat running behind his bangs, "she's going to have to. Unless you want two down out there. Your call, of course."

"My call," Ramona said below him. "Exactly how do you know there's another sniper out there?"

"Two reasons. The sniper that hit O'Hara took her square in her center of mass. First shot. The guys we took were good, but not that good. It took the second one three shots to get close."

Marina shook her head. "What if the first one was better? We didn't see him shoot."

"Don't get your panties in a knot, I'm getting there." This time her glare brought him an immense sense of self satisfaction. She may have been the best sniper in the Squad when it came to quick shooting, but in situations like this he dominated. "They were both using the Imperial ZM SG models. 4's or 5's. You heard the report when that second sniper fired on us. Sounded like a light pop at this range. The report after O'Hara went down was heavier. It had to have been fired from a different weapon."

Ramona sagged her shoulders and looked at Cherry. Her face had dried a bit, but her eyes were still bloodshot, and there were long black streaks down her face from where the tears had run her makeup. "How sure exactly is 'one hundred ten percent'?"

"Well," Cezary mocked, "You take one hundred percent and then add ten more."

"You're _absolutely _positive there's another shooter?"

"Absolutely."

That was the last thing she wanted to hear. She hoped the other sniper would disagree. "Wulfstan?"

Marina's lips moved, but no words came out. Though she couldn't hear anything, Ramona knew the words couldn't have been nice. Lifting the binoculars again, Marina retook her position on the wall. "If Regard says there's another sniper out there, there is. He knows what he's doing."

Cherry let out another sniffle. Putting an arm around her, Ramona waved down to the rest of the platoon. "We've got another shooter, keep your heads down." Still comforting Cherry, she turned her head back to the snipers on the wall. "Any idea where he is?"

"Generally. At least an idea. This guy knows how to stay concealed. He's probably set up on a desk in one of those rooms as far back away from the window as possible. I'll bet he can see only 10… maybe 20 degrees worth of coverage."

"The 10 to 20 O'Hara walked into…"

"Yeah. And the 10 to 20 we need to pass to reach our objective."

"Alright…" Ramona tapped her finger on her nose in thought. The rough texture of the gloved finger scratched as it struck. "How long will it take you to take him out?"

"Can't say. Could be two minutes. Could be two hours. Depends on him."

Ramona looked back at Catherine. She was unconscious, but she was still moving slightly every so often. "She doesn't have two hours."

"She might not have two minutes."

"Don't say that," she said taken aback. "Just get this done soon, and the sooner the better."

"Yeah, yeah. Just let us concentrate. I'll kill him."

"Good." Crawling away with Cherry, she left the snipers to their work. It wasn't until the two stopped that she realized she'd replied with 'good' when Cezary said he'd kill him. The realization was slightly disturbing.

Back on the wall, Marina looked through the binoculars. The high-rise seemed empty. "What's the plan?"

"We wait," Cezary said.

"Just wait?"

"All we can do."

Though she hated the idea, Marina knew he was right. Shifting her weight lower, she refocused the binoculars and waited.

* * *

Ramona looked at her watch. Holding back tears of frustration, she turned her head towards the sniper team. They hadn't moved an inch. For 45 minutes straight, their eyes hadn't left their lenses. The rest of the platoon sat and waited for what seemed like hours. Cherry wasn't crying anymore. Instead, her tears gave way to a blank slate of a face. It hurt to look at. Hannes sat with his fists clenched and his eyes narrowed, and Mica and Kevin hunched back against the wall with their chins resting on their hands. It was a sorry sight. Scanning further down the line, her eyes fell on Mina. The look the normally smiling blonde shot at her sent a chill down her spine. "How's she doing?" Ramona asked, trying desperately to find anything that would make the stare less intense.

"She stopped moving twenty minutes ago." Ramona had never seen Mina angry. The glare she shot now could match Marina's any day.

Dropping her head – partly in shame – Ramona turned back towards the snipers. They could have made passable statues. "Got a sitrep for me?"

"Nothing's changed, Linton." The only movement Cezary gave came from his jaw. Even his breathing had hardly changed. "He hasn't moved yet. When he does, I'll take him."

"How long is that going to be?"

"Don't know."

Ramona rolled her eyes in exasperation. "We can't wait. We need to be able to move. Now."

"You can go if you'd like, I won't stop you." A smile spread across his face from behind the scope. "He will though."

"I… This is ridiculous."

"Look woman, I didn't…"

"She's right." Marina's voice cut through the conversation. It was still smooth and calm. Save Nils, nobody else in the platoon looked as at ease. "We've been here too long already. We have to find a way to end this now or we'll never move on."

"I told you, I can kill him." Cezary didn't just sound annoyed. He sounded offended.

"Yeah? In how long? Another hour? Two?"

"If that's what it takes."

Almost growling, Ramona gave another frustrated sigh. "1st section can't wait that long."

"It might not matter."

"Our mission says it does," Marina said dropping the binoculars. "We're ending this now."

Cezary kept to his scope. "How? You've got a better idea?"

"Yeah," she said dusting off her uniform. "Close with and destroy. I'll take the road we passed about a block back. The buildings would give me cover and it would put me just about right on the high-rise."

Finally moving his head away from the scope, Cezary stared at Marina. A second later he started laughing. "Wow. I guess the bitch finally lost her mind."

"And _you've _got a better idea?"

"Yeah, I do, but you've already shot that one down."

"Then I'm doing it."

Shaking his head, Cezary returned to his rifle. "900 meters. Good luck with that."

"You've lost me," Ramona said. She couldn't follow their conversation, but the thought of doing something other than waiting brought hope. "What exactly are you planning?"

"Hell, did you not pay any attention during boot or did they just give you a promotion because you look pretty?" For nearly the fifth time that morning, Ramona wanted to punch Cezary as hard as she could. "Close with and destroy. She wants to run down to the building and take him in close quarters."

"And she could do that?"

"I can." Marina's voice was confident.

Ramona took another look around. The platoon wouldn't last much longer with nothing to do. Morale was already crippled as it was. Catherine was still on the street where she'd been shot. If she was still alive, she couldn't wait for them to beat the sniper at his own game. 1st section certainly couldn't wait. "Alright. I'll clear it."

"Thank you." Making sure she had everything she needed, Marina patted herself down. Satisfied, she peeked around Ramona's shoulder. "Salinger!" she called waving. "On me!"

Happy to be moving again, Hannes crawled over as fast as he could. "Sir?"

"Give me your Mags."

"My… What?"

"Your weapon, Salinger. I'm not running over there to get into a close fight with this… thing. I need a better weapon. Yours. Give it to me."

Hannes sat with a confused look on his face. "You mean I'm not going?"

"No."

Ramona tilted her head. "Then who are you taking with you?"

"Nobody. I'm going alone." From behind them, a laugh sounded on the wall. Ignoring Cezary, Marina took the fully automatic Mags from Hannes's hand.

"Wait," Ramona said. "You're not going alone. That's totally insane. You're taking people with you."

"The Hell I am."

"The Hell you _are_." Surprisingly – or not – Marina didn't respond. "You're taking Abbot and Hawkins with you. That's an order." Waving the two shock troopers over, she briefed them on the plan. When they were all set, Ramona checked them over. "Make this quick."

Marina bit the inside of her cheek as she lowered her gaze. "Yeah," she said with a defeated sigh. Bringing her attention to Hannes's Mags, she ejected the Magazine. It was full. Checking the chamber, she could see there was already a bullet ready. Having cleared the weapon, she replaced the magazine and pointed at Kevin and Mica. "You two, stay on me. Do what I tell you, when I tell you. Don't fall behind. Got it?" After sharing a sideways glance the two nodded. "Good. Do you two have everything you need?"

"Yes sir," they said.

"Good." Giving them a once over, Marina stuffed her hand into her own pocket but came out empty. "I need gum."

Ramona raised her eyebrows. "Gum?"

"Yeah. Gum. Who has some."

"I… Uh… I do." Cherry didn't look much better, but saying something brought some color back into her face. "Is it… Necessary?"

"Yes."

Cherry reached into her pocket and pulled out a pack. Taking one of the sticks, she handed it to the sniper. "Here." She hated to see her gum go, but doing something to help brought some of her wits back.

"Thanks." Holding the stick in her hand, she waved the two shock troopers in behind her. "Alright, let's go." Still crouched under the wall, the trio doubled back towards the previous intersection.

"Wait!" Cherry yelled before they'd left earshot. "What was the gum for?"

Marina turned her head. "I need something to chew."

All the color that had returned to Cherry's face suddenly drained away again. "That… That bitch stole my gum…" Before more tears could fall, Ramona wrapped her arm around the girl. With a sigh, she watched the small unit round the corner out of sight.

* * *

Edging his head around the corner of the building, Mica checked the road ahead. Clear. Waving his arm, he called the other two grunts over. Stopping at a kneel next to him Marina pressed her back to the wall while Kevin covered the street behind them. It hadn't exactly been quick to trek the 900 meters to the high-rise, but it had been better than waiting. While she would have preferred to move alone, the team of three was able to move unnoticed and hadn't run into any resistance, and Kevin and Mica had thankfully kept their mouths shut. "How's it look?"

"Clear, but open."

"Let me take a look." Letting Mica slide into her position, Marina stepped around him and pressed herself up against the building's corner. Shifting her hair, she let half of her face fall out of cover. He was right – the street looked clear – but it was also exposed. Very exposed. The high-rise stood about 50 meters down the street, and there was a large open area in front of it. In order to get to the side of the street it was on they'd have to cross about 30 meters worth of open space. Cezary had cleared the top floors of the building, but there was no telling what was waiting in the windows of the lower floors. She couldn't see anything from where she was, but that didn't mean there wasn't something there – or covering from the windows on the opposite side of the road. The only way to find _that _out would be to run for it. "OK, I'm going for it."

"We're right behind you," Mica said. A thin layer of dust coated his glasses, but it didn't seem to affect his vision. Behind him, Kevin lifted his hand. They were both ready to run.

"No you're not." Pulling her head back, Marina pushed her back against the wall and rested her head on it. Slumping to a sit, she closed her eyes before double checking the Mags she was carrying.

"Then what are we supposed to do?"

"Wait."

"But… Linton told us we had to come with you."

"You will." Marina chewed her gum for a bit before continuing on. "I'm crossing the street. We don't know what's covering it. If all three of us go they can gun us down in one sweep. You cover the road from here. I'll cross and make sure it's clear."

"And if it's not?"

"They'll shoot me."

"No," Mica said uncomfortably. "I mean… Well, I guess I mean after that."

After that. It wouldn't make much difference to her at that point, but the war would go on with or without her. "Don't come for me. Go back to Linton. Tell her to listen to anything Cezary tells her until he kills the sniper. He's a prick, but he's also the best counter sniper in Gallia. He always killed me in training. If he can kill me he can kill this bastard."

She could see the whites of Mica's horrified eyes behind his glasses. "You want us to… leave you?"

"Leave me."

"What if you're… Not dead?"

"If I can't make it back on my own power, leave me. You try to help me they'll hit you too. I'll deal with it myself."

Mica looked at the ground. "I don't think I can watch that again."

Catherine. "Then don't. Turn and run."

"But…"

"Don't 'but' me. That's an order." She looked past Mica to Kevin. "You understand Abbot?" Kevin raised his hand. It was settled. Standing, Marina leaned back against the wall. The rough surface of the building's bricks cradled the back of her head. Closing her eyes, she imagined her back on the wall across the street. Every step played through her mind. Every stone on the street. Every crack in the cobble stone. Slowly, she realized that with every observation she put in her mind her legs became weaker and weaker. _Fuckin' fuck. Just go. _She took three deep breaths. In – Out – In – Out – In – Out. Go.

Springing off of the wall Marina took her first step into the street. Finger resting on the trigger guard of the Mags, she bounded forward. The street was littered with its fair share of debris, and the stones and chunks of rock and mortar gave way as her boots struck the ground. She didn't look back. Mica would cover the road, and her best chance of making it to the other side was to stay mobile. So she did. They'd run long distances in boot camp, but this short sprint left her out of breath. With a dry mouth, she clenched the piece of gum she was chewing between her back teeth and kept her legs moving. After what seemed like a mile run, she didn't slow down before slamming her back into the wall opposite Mica's corner. Raising the Mags, Marina scanned the windows on the other side of the street. Clear. With Mica and Kevin out of earshot, she gave a quick laugh of relief. Bringing fresh air into her lungs, she waved the two shock troopers over.

"Everything alright?" Kevin asked as he hit the wall next to her.

Marina's mouth opened, but nothing came out. Her throat was too dry. Instead, she grunted and began moving against the wall towards the high-rise. Marina kept her Mags aimed down the street ahead while Mica and Alex covered the windows of the buildings opposite and the road behind them respectively. With all sectors covered, they'd see any Imperials coming their way. As they reached the edge of the high-rise, Marina stopped the group. "Hawkins, switch with me. Abbot, move up." Her voice was still dry, but at least she could speak. Stepping around the men, she let the two slide against the wall into her position at the front. She may have been carrying the weapon, but that didn't make her a shock trooper. It had been a long time since she'd practiced room clearing in boot. With the experienced troopers on point, they continued to the door.

Mica lifted his hand and put it on the doorknob. "Ready?"

"Uh… Roger that," Kevin said behind him.

Without speaking, Marina tapped him on the back. Kevin gave Mica's shoulder a squeeze, and he opened the door. Nearly on top of each other, the two troopers stormed into the entryway. Hugging the walls on either side of the door, they each swept the room from their corner to the one on the opposite wall. "One clear."

"Two clear."

The entryway was a large, well furnished lobby. Red tiles covered the entire floor, and the walls were covered with light brown wallpaper. Stepping in behind the two shock troopers, Marina thought it was actually rather ugly. Then again, she didn't know much about interior design. There were another four seats set up at the center of the room, and a reception desk at the far end.

"Desk. Cover the gap," Mica called.

"Moving." Stepping over, Kevin fell in line one step behind Mica. Together they aimed their weapons as they moved towards the obstacle. Watching, Marina stepped away from the door and waited. Sidestepping, the two militia troopers moved past the desk. "Desk clear."

"All clear."

Stepping forward, Marina walked over to the desk. Opening the drawers, she pulled out a register. Skimming, she ignored the names and counted the floors. Eleven. It would take all day to search the place. Slamming the book shut, she left it on the desk. "So what do we do now?" Kevin asked.

Stepping away from the desk, Marina tilted her head until her neck cracked. Groaning slightly, she bit her bottom lip. Only the top seven floors were visible from where the rest of the platoon waited, but it would still take the three of them the rest of the day to clear that many rooms. Even if they had the time they'd get tired of the work after the first floor or two and start making mistakes. If someone could tell them where the shooter was they could make quick work of him and return, but nobody knew where he was. Marina slammed her gloved fist against the wall. Maybe Cezary had been right after all.

_Hold on a second… _Somebody to tell them where the shooter was. It might be too late, but it was their only chance. "We go to the roof."

Kevin's head jerked back in surprise. "The roof? I thought Cezary already killed the guys up there."

"Cezary killed one. He hit the second low. That one may still be alive. If he is, we'll make him talk."

Nodding, the two troopers moved into the stairwell. The stairs were enclosed in a tight corridor surrounded by cement walls. It would make clearing the way easy – There was only one path. Taking each corner carefully, the group made the climb to the top. Once again, they stopped at the door. "Make sure your uniform is clear over the side of the building," Marina said before she waved them through.

Mica adjusted his glasses before reaching out to the door. "What about enemy snipers?"

"What about ours?"

"You mean Cezary?"

"If he thinks you're Imperial, he'll take you down. Make sure he knows it's us. Also, we don't know if this second guy is dead. We want him alive, but don't take any chances."

The two nodded. After their round of pats and squeezes, they pushed through the door. Marina could hear their voices carrying from outside. "One clear!"

"Two clear and covering!"

The second of the yells implied the Imperial was still alive. Thankful, Marina stepped out of the doorway and onto the roof. The sniper was clearly dead. He lay on his back, head resting in a pool of blood that ran into a storm drain. His spotter wasn't quite as lucky. Shot low through the gut, the man had crawled as far as he could manage across the rooftop, leaving a long bloody trail behind him. As Marina stepped forward, Mica kicked the Imperial's handgun over to the other side of the rooftop. He wouldn't be a threat. "All clear, sir," he said as the handgun slid to a stop.

Marina knelt next to the wounded Imperial. Defeated, he flipped over onto his back. The bullet had entered through his flank near kidney level. It was probably excruciating. "Where is he?" she asked him.

"Where… Where is who?" His voice was weak and broken. He wouldn't last much longer.

"Don't fuck with me. The other sniper. Where is he?" She kept her face blank. No pity for a dying man.

"I… I don't know what you're talking about."

"Look. We know you guys didn't shoot our man, and we know it wasn't the people on the balcony. So where's the triggerman? Floor and room."

"No… Other shooter. Just us."

He wasn't just going to give them up. Time for a new strategy. "Alright. Fine. You see this guy here in the glasses?" With her free hand, she pointed up to Mica. "He's a medic. You tell us where he is and he'll fix you up."

Aghast, Mica stared down at her. His expression of disgust at her lie negated all need for words. The wounded Imperial didn't seem to take notice of his face. "He'll… He'll help… me?"

"Yes."

"That would be… nice." As the Imperial rolled his head away from Mica and set his gaze back on Marina he started laughing. The sound was harsh and coarse, almost like a gag. "Too bad it's bullshit. His… patch says infantry. All of yours do. I may be dying but… I can still do my job."

Strike two. Thinking quickly, she tried another route. "Yeah. I took you for a fool. For that I'm sorry. Let's deal with each other with respect. Spotter to spotter. Here's how this is going to work. You can either tell us where the other team is or you can stay quiet. Either way the result will be the same – we'll find them eventually. If you tell us where they are I'll give you my word that we won't kill them, but if I have to search floor by floor I'm going to get upset, and I may not be as welcoming when I finally kick their door in."

"More threats… is that all you Gallians have?"

"I also have Ragnaid."

"Ragnaid?"

Reaching into her personal kit, Marina pulled out a syrette. Holding it up, she let the Imperial catch a glimpse of it. "Ragnaid. It's a painkiller."

"Threats _and _bribery then. Figures."

"Like it or not, that's the way it's going to be. I'll swear that on my father's name. Tell me where they are and I'll let them live and ease your pain."

"You… Promise this?"

"Yes."

The Imperial's helmet shielded any emotion he displayed from view. Looking down, the three Gallians saw only the massed produced expression of the Imperial Infantry. The sigh that came from behind the mask was a stark contrast to the intimidating figure of the man's equipment. "Eighth floor… Third room."

"Thank you." Stuffing the syrette into her pocket, Marina began to draw her combat knife. "Abbot, Hawkins. Go back inside and wait down by the eighth floor door. Don't go in. Stay in the stairwell. I'll be down in a moment."

Kevin watched as her knife left its sheath. Still kneeling, she hadn't taken her eyes off of the Imperial. "Wait, you're not going to… You said you'd give him Ragnaid."

"I said I'd ease his pain. I will."

Mica turned his back on the scene and looked off of the roof over towards where the rest of the platoon waited. He couldn't see anyone, but he could make out the outline of the ruined wall in the distance. The sun had risen higher in the sky, and though it was still early in the morning the sunlight reflected off of the windows beyond. "You're… disgusting."

"Wait in the stairwell."

"I'm not…"

"Go." She didn't glare. She didn't even look. Spoken softly, the words were more commanding than any order she'd shouted since taking control of the section. Quaking a little, Mica patted Kevin on the shoulder and the two walked off of the rooftop. Making sure the door had shut behind them, Marina waited a moment before re-sheathing the knife. "I'm sorry about that. I… Have a reputation to live up to."

"Even if it's disgusting?"

"Yes."

The Imperial let out another harsh laugh. "One of those types then."

"I guess." Reaching into her pocket, Marina pulled out the syrette of Ragnaid. Pulling off the cap she exposed the needle and prepared to inject the painkiller.

"So you're… keeping your word?"

"Yes."

"And my friends?"

Thrusting the needle into the man's thigh, Marina squeezed the syrette and let the painkiller flow into the man's leg. "I wasn't planning on killing them anyway."

"Really?"

"No," she conceded.

The man's laugh was followed by a series of coughs. Shaking, he tilted his head back as he regained control. "But… You won't kill them now… right?"

"That's right."

"Good," he said. "I'm glad. You're… honorable."

Having injected the man, Marina sat back for a moment to let the Ragnaid set in. The sky was cloudless and the sun hadn't made looking up painful yet. The blue was still a darker shade, but it was growing lighter by the minute. "No such thing."

"Maybe not then. Still… From one dishonorable man to the next… Thank you."

"Hm." Whether she believed it or not, the words stuck in her mind. It was about the only compliment she'd received since joining the Militia. Even her promotions had come grudgingly. "Feeling better?" she asked changing the subject.

"Yes. A bit." Having made good on her part of the deal, Marina stood up. Without looking down at the wounded Imperial, she made sure she had everything she needed before tossing the used syrette aside. Turning her head from the dying man, she stepped forward to walk off. "Wait." His desperate cry stopped the woman mid step. Turning only her head, she looked back to where the wounded man lay. She could barely see him through her bangs. "I… I don't want to die alone."

"I can't help you with that."

Through the mess of hair covering her face she could see him shudder. "OK," he said weakly. The disappointment in his voice was clear. "If you… can't do that, could you… give me some water?"

"Yeah. Alright." Kneeling back next to him, Marina pulled out her canteen. Setting it down she helped the man remove his helmet. He was young – maybe only a year or two older than she was. Unlike the Imperials she'd seen helmetless before, his hair was dark and cut short. Unscrewing the cap from her canteen she handed it over to him.

"Thank you," he said before taking a long drink. Some of the water spilled out around his cheeks, but most of it made it into his mouth. "You know… Back home we have a legend. About the Valkyrie."

"You mean Valkyria."

"No. Valky_rie. _The Empire is… A big place. There are a lot of legends there."

Sitting now, Marina crossed her ankles and wrapped her arms around her knees. "Long way from home?"

"Yeah."

"Me too."

"Hm." Stopping his swig, the Imperial offered the canteen. Taking it, Marina took a long drink before handing it back. "Anyway… The Valkyrie are… Beautiful warriors who guide fallen soldiers into the afterlife. Pretty silly, isn't it?"

"I guess."

He laughed again, but his voice was clearer now. No coughs followed. "Yeah… Well I… I'm glad I got to meet one."

It was past time to go. Lifting herself up, Marina took a last glimpse of the man before she walked off. He wouldn't last long. Without saying goodbye, she took her time before reaching the door.

"Hey." The Imperial's voice stopped her before she could turn the handle. "You forgot your canteen."

"Keep it. We've… Got an extra one now."

"Oh." The man's reply was barely audible. Working up his voice, he put all of his strength into his words to carry the distance. "I'm… Sorry about your friend."

"Don't be."

"One of those types then?"

"I guess." Glancing over, she could see that the Imperial was smiling.

"Good luck," he said.

"Yeah… You too." Turning the handle, she opened the door and stepped through. Closing it behind her, she left the man behind and walked down the stairs. Her footfalls echoed through the stairwell as she took the steps, ignoring the hand railing and letting her boots fall flat. Marina didn't believe in luck. It wouldn't help her, and it wouldn't save the man on the roof. Regardless, something about the exchange lifted a weight from her shoulders – a weight she hadn't realized was there until it was gone. She had to stop when she realized she was smiling as well.

Regaining control of her expression, she approached the eighth floor stairwell. "Militia, coming down."

Kevin's voice called back. "Come down."

Rounding the corner, Marina saw Kevin and Mica covering the two ends of the stairwell. As she approached, they readied themselves near the door. Falling in line, she noticed that Mica wouldn't make eye contact with her. "What took you so long?" he asked.

She ignored his question. "No talking beyond this door. We move quietly, but take our time. When we're sure the hallway is clear, stack up at the door. I'll take care of opening it. You guys just make sure you cover your area of responsibility."

"Are we killing these guys too?" Her theatrics had certainly made an impression on the man.

"No." She signaled the sweep. Opening the door, Mica stepped through into the hallway beyond. From the doorway, there were three paths to take. The door opened at the midpoint of a long corridor, with another hallway intersecting the first right in front of it. Covering the right path, he waited for the two behind him to signal that their halls were clear. Feeling a pat on the back, he turned around. With her index and middle fingers extended, Marina pointed down the intersecting hallway. Looking at the signs, he could see that the hall would take them towards the front of the high-rise and the room they were looking for. Simultaneously, Mica and Kevin started down the hall. Reaching the end, they checked the corners and waved Marina forward.

The door they wanted lay just around the left corner. Marina let the two shock troopers stack up in front of her, but this time she didn't wait in the back. Stepping around them, she stood sideways in front of the door. She already knew the door would be locked. Pausing, she checked the hinges. The door opened inward. Nodding to Kevin, she let him initiate the chain. After he squeezed Mica's shoulder, Mica hit Marina in the lower back. She took half a step back before she shuffled forward and side kicked the door under the handle. As the door buckled and broke through the frame, she stepped back to let the shock troopers in.

Mica took his first step into the room. It was wide, open, and square. Through his peripheral vision he could see two Imperials to his left. Ignoring them, he turned right and checked his corners. "One clear!"

Kevin was in the room before Mica had finished his sweep. Turning left, he pointed his Mags at the enemy sniper team. As Cezary had predicted, they were set up on a desk near the room's back wall. By the looks on their unmasked faces they hadn't seen the Gallians coming. "Militia! Drop your weapons!"

The Imperial behind the rifle slowly set it down on the desk. Raising his hands, he urged his spotter to follow suit. Stepping through the door, Marina lowered her Mags. "Hawkins, cover them. Abbot, secure their weapons."

With Mica's weapon trained on the Imperials, Kevin picked the rifle up from off of the desk. Unloading it and making sure it was secure, he slung it around his shoulder. Stepping towards the Imperial who'd been holding the rifle he began to pat him down. As he worked his way down the Imperial's back, the man stopped him. "There's a handgun at my right hip and a utility knife in the pouch near my left shoulder." Shifting his pats, Kevin felt the handgun through the man's uniform. Pulling it out of the holster, he ejected the magazine and pulled the slide back. The round that was in the chamber flipped out of the weapon and onto the floor. Having control over the pistol, he reached into his shoulder pouch and pulled out the knife.

Next to him, his spotter watched with wide eyes. His eyes seemed to bulge as he noticed the 7 patch on the Militiaman's arms. "I have…"

"Let me do the talking," the sniper said. His comrade shut up. He was the youngest in the room by a fair number of years. "My spotter here has a handgun, same location. That's all he's carrying."

"Grab it," Marina said. As Kevin began to pat the younger Imperial down, Marina addressed the older one. "I trust you understand this is your surrender, and we'll kill you if you don't comply."

"This isn't my first time being captured."

"Good. Then we don't have to go over the details. Who are you?"

"Leutnant Bernhard Priller, 060695-P-42833."

"Where were you deployed from?"

The Imperial stood straight and kept a formal air about him. "I've told you my name and serial number. That's all I'm required to give you." His eyes showed that he wasn't going to relent. Peering into them, Marina felt a strange sense of déjà vu. The eyes reminded her of someone.

"Fine. Make sure your friend understands what's going on." She turned towards Mica and Kevin. "Take them back down to the lobby. I'm headed up to the roof. I'll signal Cezary that we're all clear. If they try anything, kill them."

Leaving the group behind, she walked back through the hallway and into the stairwell. The way up was well lit, but the walls were barren. Listening as her footfalls echoed, she counted the steps to the roof. When she reached the top she paused before opening the door. Taking a deep breath, she stepped out. The sky was lighter now, and the sun had risen higher over the horizon. Over the edge of the high-rise she could see the country beyond the city. Fields and pastures dotted the landscape as far as she could see, disappearing into the outline of a mountain range on the horizon. Marina looked around the rooftop. She was alone.

* * *

Ramona watched as Kevin escorted the two prisoners back down the road the platoon had come from. After the three returned from the high-rise, she sent him off to take their captives back to the park. That meant the platoon was now two men down. Gritting her teeth, she tried to relax as Marina gave her debriefing. They'd been pinned down for a while, but the platoon could move on now. "Nice job, Wulfstan," she said. "If you and Cezary hadn't pulled us out of this…"

Marina shrugged. "How did things go here?"

"More of the same after you left. Waiting. It was rough."

"O'Hara?"

Ramona shook her head. From the color of her eyes it looked like she'd been trying to hold back a few tears of her own. "I radioed back to command. We're to make the proper adjustments to the chain of command and continue on. That makes you acting Platoon Sergeant."

The rest of the implication went unspoken. She probably didn't want to have to hear it herself. "Is Catherine's equipment secure?"

"Yeah. We grabbed her rifle and ammo. I'll let you hold on to that. Maybe get some use out of it."

"Hm."

"Also, we found a couple of letters on her. One of them didn't have a name on it, but the other was addressed to Sergeant Caird. They looked pretty old. Claudia's holding on to them. We'll see what Coby knows about them when we get back. Otherwise… There's not much we can do with the body right now so we put a blanket over her. We'll pick her up on the way back."

"Hm."

Looking down, Marina could see that Ramona's hands were shaking. "We can't stay here now though. Gather up the platoon. We're moving on."

Walking away, Marina set off to organize the unit. Ramona waited a few moments to regain her composure. She'd failed Coby. The one person he'd asked her personally to watch over was dead. For once she was glad she had run out of makeup. If she hadn't she'd probably end up looking like Cherry. Wiping her eyes, she turned around and walked towards the assembly of troops.

"OK," she said, rifle pointed towards the ground. "I know this isn't exactly how things were supposed to happen, but 1st section still needs us. We're still on mission. O'Ha…" She had to stop to clear her throat. "Catherine got us this far, but we have to do the rest on our own. We'll do that. Stopping now would be a slap in the face for her. I won't do that. Are we clear?"

The platoon nodded. Ramona looked over their faces. Cherry wasn't the only one with bloodshot eyes. Karl looked like the walking dead. "Alright," she continued. "We're moving in two columns. It's been a while since we've been through any urban combat, so make sure you check your corners and…" Her mind drifted back to the outline of O'Hara's body under the blanket. "Watch out for snipers."

With a flick of her wrist, she sent 3rd section down the road ahead. They were moving again. Stopping at the first intersection, Melville peeked his head around the corner and waved the group on. The intersection was clear. _So much for easing your way in. _With another flick of her wrist, 4th section was on the move. _Ready or not…_

* * *

Next Engagement: Comfortably Numb


	22. Comfortably Numb

**Engagement 22: Comfortably Numb**

The first thing Lynn realized was that she was conscious again. Her eyes were still closed so she couldn't see, but she was aware that she was awake. She wished she were still asleep. Her head throbbed underneath her helmet and an assortment of colored shapes danced behind her closed eyelids. They would need to be the first things to go. Wanting to find her bearings, Lynn opened her eyes and immediately regretted it. The room wasn't dark, but the contrast in light between the dim room and waking up from being unconscious was enough to force her eyes closed again. The shapes twirled again, this time accompanied by the imprint of the light from the room. Together they seemed to mock her.

Taking the process a bit slower this time, Lynn opened her eyes a millimeter at a time. After a moment of seeing nothing but blurs, the room – or what was left of it – came into focus. Whatever the Imperials had used to fire on them tore the place to shreds. Giant chunks had been blown out of the walls, littering the floor and coating everything in the room with a fine layer of dust. The entire backrest of the room's only chair had been torn from the bottom half of the seat and thrown across to the other side of the room and even support beams from the ceiling hung down from overhead or lay across the floor. Something in the room smelled rotten. Face down, Lynn could only see half of the place from where her head lay. Every gasp of air coated her throat with the dust that had come from the fragmentation of the building. That would need to be the next thing to go. Planting her hands flat on the floor, she began to push herself up. The sharp pain that pierced through her lower back sent her back down onto her face.

"Don't try to move."

Lynn had never been so happy to hear Rosina's voice. Someone else had made it. She wasn't alone. "Rosina? Where are you?"

"I'm right behind you," she said. "Don't try to look."

"Yeah. Alright." The back had come as a surprise. Somehow she hadn't felt it until she'd tried to move, but now that she realized it was there she couldn't ignore the dull pain hanging at the small of her back. Not wanting any other surprises she took a quick check over the rest of her body. Her head still hurt, but she already knew about that. The rest seemed to check out alright. Arms, legs, body… fine. Backs could be serious though. "What's the damage? Am I alright?"

"I'm not a medic, so I can't say. Just don't try to move. Just in case."

Brushing her hand across the ground, Lynn swept the dust from the floor away from the area around her face. The debris floated through the air, settling back on the ground around her. Though some of it settled down in the area she'd swept it away from, she'd cleared enough to breathe comfortably. "How did it happen?"

"Don't know. When I came to one of the support beams from the ceiling was lying across you. I was able to push it off, but the damage had been done at that point."

"I'm not bleeding, am I?"

"No. Doesn't look like it."

"OK." By the sound of it Rosina had been unconscious as well. "What about you?"

"I uh… I'm alright. I think."

"You think?"

"Yeah… Headache. I was out for a bit, but I regained consciousness a while back. Vision's a bit blurry too, but other than that I think I'm good."

"Good." The rotten smell was overpowering Lynn's other senses. She couldn't see anything in the room that could be causing it. "Do you know what that smell is?"

"The what?"

"The smell. Something in here smells awful."

"Oh. Oh, that. Yeah. I… I threw up."

"Once or more?"

"Twice. Once after waking up and pulling the beam off of you. I think the second time was a little while after that."

"OK." They wouldn't be able to do anything about the smell then. As disgusting as it was, Lynn was thankful the smell wasn't something – or someone – actually rotting. "You're alright otherwise though, right?"

"I think. My vision's a bit blurry though."

"Yeah, you said that."

"Did I?"

"…Yes."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about." Rosina's injuries didn't sound life threatening, but Lynn suspected the hit she'd taken to the head had done more than the other woman realized. The nausea was concerning, and by the sound of it both of them had been unconscious for an extended period of time. If she could have moved she would have given Rosina a look over. That didn't seem feasible. "Hey wait a second," Lynn said realizing an absence. "Susie. Where's Susie?"

"She's here next to me. She…"

"Is she OK?"

"I patched her up as best I could, but… I'm not trained for this kind of thing."

"She's alive though, right?"

"For now."

For now would have to do. It was better than no, in any case. "You got her shoulder all patched up, yeah? Those tend to bleed."

"Yeah, I got… Wait. You knew about her shoulder? Was that before we all went down?"

Lynn didn't want to move, but Rosina's reaction surprised her enough to send an involuntary jerk throughout her body. "Rosina… You saw it happen."

"Did I?"

"…Yeah."

"Oh."

Lynn wasn't a medic, but she knew head injuries could do funny things. "What's the last thing you remember, Rosina?"

There was a long pause as the woman thought. "Walking up on the outpost," she said at last. "What happened after that?"

"Things uh…" Lynn chose her words carefully. "Things didn't go so well after that."

"I can tell."

"Yeah." Even turning her head as far as she could without agitating her back, Lynn couldn't see Rosina. It made conversation awkward. "Hey, do you think you could move?"

"Me?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, I can move a bit."

"You want to shuffle over here in front of me? I'll catch you up, but I can't do that if you're behind me."

"Sure, give me just a second." There was a shifting sound coming from past Lynn's feet. Slowly creeping into view, Rosina hung her head as she crawled in front of where Lynn was resting her head on the floor. Leaning against the wall, she let her head roll into the corner where the wall met with a counter. "So? What happened?"

Lynn sighed. The extra force her breath sent out lifted another cloud of dust off of the floor. She watched as the grains looped in the dim rays of light before falling back towards the ground. Rosina seemed uncharacteristically friendly towards her. Neither of the two was in any condition to antagonize the other, and Lynn didn't want to do anything to damage the unspoken truce they'd seem to have come across. Once again, she would have to choose her words carefully.

* * *

_The sound of the mine detonating was muffled by the walls of the building, but the echo of the blast resonated through the morning air outside of the outpost. The three Gallian women instinctively ducked below the cover of the small wall in front of them. Realizing the blast had come from inside of the building ahead of them, Lynn braced herself against the wall and used its top to support her Mags. Straining her eyes she searched for the source of the explosion. She couldn't see anything through the dark of the building – Gallian or Imperial. "Heads up," she said as Susie and Rosina brought their weapons over the wall. "Check your fire, Wavy's team is still in there."_

_Next to her Susie stared down the sights of her rifle. Though she too was braced against the wall, Lynn could still see a slight shake in her arm. "What was that?"_

_"I don't know. Keep your eyes open. If they need to leave in a rush we've got to have their backs. Just make sure you've got a positive ID on your target before you engage."_

_"That goes for you too," Rosina called. "Don't get trigger happy again and blow half our section away."_

_"I don't remember ever having that problem."_

_"Then where did you get that helmet?"_

_"I got it doing my duty and…"_

_"Hey, quiet." Susie was still aiming down her rifle, but her arm had stopped shaking. "Did you guys hear that?"_

_Moving back to her sights, Lynn checked the windows. There was nothing behind the open frames but darkness. "Hear what?"_

_"I thought I heard small arms fire. From inside."_

_"You sure?"_

_"No, that's why I asked."_

_Lynn bit her lip. She'd let her personal quarrel with Rosina distract her. Kicking herself, she took a look behind her. The road was clear. Any threat would be coming from their front. "No more talking from here on. Keep your eyes on the house and your ears open."_

_The argument was put on hold. Other than the original blast there was no sign of any fighting going on. Lynn hoped that the gunfire Susie thought she'd heard had just been in her mind. She was always a bit jumpy in combat, after all. That hope was dashed when another burst was heard from inside the house. From where they were standing it sounded like a couple of firecrackers going off in the distance. _

_"Was that…"_

_"Yeah," Lynn replied. "Something's going on inside. Susie, keep the building covered. Rosina, watch our flanks and rear."_

_Rosina's shotgun wouldn't be able to cover the distance to the building and she wouldn't be able to use her lance as long as friendlies were still inside. Lynn and Susie kept their eyes and weapons trained on the outpost as Rosina took a knee behind them. Preparing for action, Lynn rested her thumb on her Mags's safety and waited. _

_It wasn't long before she flicked it. As she swept over the door a bright flash lit a second floor window. She ducked as the wall disintegrated in front of her. "Contact! Second floor, left window!" _

_Susie was already on it. Her bullets were lost in the darkness of the room the shot had come from. Other than the original muzzle flash there was no sign of a shooter. "Is Wavy's team coming back out?"_

_"Don't know."_

_"Should we… Go in and check up on them?"_

_"No," Lynn said moving back above the wall. "We're here to cover their retreat. If we move up we leave them without an escape route."_

_"What if… What if they can't escape as it is?" _

_The question gave Lynn pause. Wavy was counting on them to hold their position, but if the Imperials had them pinned down inside they wouldn't be able to help from where they were. Go or stay? Before she could make up her mind the Imperials decided for her. More shots rang out, and the darkened windows on the second floor were filled with bright flashes. "Incoming, second floor." _

_Lynn was ready this time, and she aimed her Mags at one of the flashing windows. Pulling the trigger in three quick bursts she sent a barrage into the window on the far right. The incoming fire stopped for a moment, but the flashes continued only seconds after she stopped shooting. After emptying her magazine she dropped below the wall to reload. She met eyes with Susie as the other girl inserted a full magazine into her own rifle. "How many did you see?" Susie asked._

_"At least three. One in each window." Pulling out a fresh magazine, Lynn loaded it into the Mags and hit the bolt catch. Looking over she nodded to Susie. Together they popped back above the wall and resumed firing. Before she expended half of her new magazine Lynn saw another flash come from one of the first story windows. There was a loud crack as the round whizzed past. Shifting her aim, she expended the rest of her load into the window the shot had come from. "We've got fire coming from the first floor."_

_"The first?"_

_If the Imperials were firing from the first floor that meant that they'd already pushed through Wavy's group. Lynn now had another decision to make – Fight through to them or fall back. "Susie," she said making up her mind. "Take Selden's position and watch our flanks. Selden, get up here." The two women switched positions as Lynn fired another burst into the building. She took cover below the wall as Rosina took Susie's place next to her. "Get your lance ready."_

_"The lance? Are you crazy?"_

_"We've got to stop enough of the fire to give Wavy some breathing room."_

_"Well he won't be doing a lot of breathing if we take them out as well."_

_"I don't think we have to worry about friendly fire," Lynn said with a grimace. "The Imps are all over the front of the outpost. If they've made it that far they've already gone through Wavy's group."_

_Rosina shot Lynn a look of complete disgust. "So you're just giving up on them?"_

_"No. If we can slow their fire enough we can try to pull them out. To do that we need your lance. Get to it." _

_Rosina opened her mouth to speak but cut herself short. Grudgingly, she reached back and detached the pieces of her lance from the back of her rig. _

_"How are we looking, Susie?" Lynn asked as the lancer began to assemble her weapon. _

_"All clear on the sides, just make the fighting stop."_

_"Don't worry, we'll end this soon." One way or the other, the fight wouldn't last long. Either they would break through with Rosina's lance or fall back. She just prayed the lance would work. _

_"Alright," Rosina said, "I'm good to fire." _

_"Good. I'm going to pop up and give you some suppression. When I drop back down hit one of the windows on the second floor. It'll do some good damage with the least likelihood of… Well, just hit the second floor." She didn't wait to see if Rosina understood. Standing up she pulled the trigger back and didn't let off. As the bolt locked back she caught sight of an Imperial running around the wall to her left. "Susie, Imp coming up on the left!"_

_"O-OK." Standing, the woman raised her rifle. As the Imperial moved around the wall he crossed right into her sight picture. She began to squeeze the trigger before hesitating. Susie couldn't bring herself to pull it. She didn't shoot. The Imperial did. His first shot ripped through her left knee, taking her leg out from under her and spinning her around. With her back to the Imperial, she caught herself on her remaining leg. As she landed, the soldier fired again. The round caught her in the shoulder, spinning her back around in the direction she'd just fallen from. _

_"Susie!" Mags ready, Lynn raised her weapon in the direction of the Imperial. Before she could get him in her sights he ducked back around the other side of the wall. "Rosina, change of plans. We're falling back."_

_"And leave them all behind?"_

_"We can't help them like this. We'll retreat back to the Squad and bring up support."_

_"Absolutely not," Rosina said with a scowl. "They'll be dead by the time we get back here."_

_Lynn fired a burst over the wall. Immediately after she'd dropped down the wall chipped and fragmented as the incoming bullets tore into it. "Nothing we can do if we die too. Grab Susie. We're going." _

_"No, we're not," Rosina said readying the lance. "I'm not following some Darcsen coward as she abandons her unit." _

_"We're falling back and that's an order!"_

_Rosina glanced at the shotgun she'd been carrying. "If you try to run I'll shoot you. We're not leaving them behind. Now give me some Goddamn cover!"_

_"We're not… Dammit!" Springing up, Lynn put another stream of fire on the outpost. If Rosina was dead set on fighting she wouldn't be able to convince her otherwise. When she'd emptied her Mags she dropped back below the wall. _

_Rosina was up before Lynn was fully covered. With the lance supported on her shoulder she aimed for the right window on the second floor. Before she fired she saw movement on the roof. "Lynn, stay down!"_

_Rosina dropped below cover just before the Imperial grenade round struck the top of the wall. The top half exploded out, and Lynn was showered by the fragments of rock that flew over them. There was a dull clang as one of the large chunks impacted the helmet she was wearing. Stunned, she fell to the ground. Head spinning, Lynn brought herself to her hands and knees. Looking back she could see Rosina out cold on the ground next to her. The wall wouldn't do for cover anymore. To their right was an empty building. That would be her best chance._

_Crawling, Lynn moved over to where Susie lay on the ground. Not wanting to carry the extra weight, she removed the girl's pack and unstrapped her chest rig. Grabbing her as lightly as possible she hoisted Susie over her shoulders. The girl was relatively light, and Lynn could manage the weight. Holding her Mags with one hand she began to move towards the empty building. Hoping to ease the incoming fire, she pointed the weapon at the outpost and let off a burst. The gun jerked in her hand, and the bullets flew wildly into the building. Though she would never be able to hit anything accurately holding the weapon like that the random streams of fire sent at least one Imperial for cover. Turning, she put all of her effort into making it to the building. Running as fast as she could while carrying Susie, Lynn ignored the bullets falling around her and stepped through the door. The store window shattered as the rounds blasted through. Stopping behind a counter, Lynn dropped Susie back onto the floor. She reloaded her weapon before running back for Rosina. _

_Lynn checked the other woman over before moving her. If one of the fragments struck her in the head she could have damaged her neck. However, she soon decided it would be better to move her to cover and worry about her neck later. Silently, Lynn cursed under her breath before trying to pick Rosina up. At nearly twice Susie's size there would be no way she could carry her. Grabbing onto the back of her rig she opted to drag her instead. Lynn strained as Rosina's weight seemed to fight against her. Stopping once or twice to lay down some fire, they made slow progress to the building. Finally stepping through the doorway, Lynn let Rosina slump down next to Susie. With the two injured safe behind the counter, she braced herself against the cover and supporter her weapon on the countertop. It took a moment for her to realize the incoming fire had stopped. _

_The relative calm made Lynn uneasy. Nervously, she scanned the area outside. While the first floor of the outpost was hidden from sight behind the wall, she couldn't see any movement or light coming from the second floor. It was almost as if everyone had packed up and left. She listened for anything that could indicate movement, but all she could hear was the sound of her own breathing. Tapping her fingers on the foregrip of her Mags she began to hum. The fact that she didn't know the words to the tune – or even if there were any words at all – didn't matter. She just needed something to break the silence._

_She got her wish. With a loud bang the doorframe exploded. Lynn jumped back and ducked her head in surprise. All around her the walls and furnishings exploded, sending chunks of plaster and counter across the room. Dropping to her knees she covered her ears. Hearing the muffled sound of her voice she realized she hadn't stopped humming. It was almost funny. Her tune was accompanied by laughter as the building fell down around her._

* * *

Lynn tapped her fingers against the ground as she finished telling the story. She couldn't remember the name of the song she'd been humming or the way the tune went, but that hardly mattered. The details weren't important. In fact, she'd left quite a few out in the retelling; specifically the part where Rosina threatened to shoot her if she went through with the retreat. Rosina still sat with her head leaning in the corner. She looked drowsy, and there wasn't much expression on her face. "So that's how it went, eh?"

"Yeah," Lynn said. "That's how it went. Somehow we're still alive. I guess they just left us for dead. Probably wasn't a difficult mistake to make, considering."

Rosina gave a weak laugh. "I guess not." Moving only her eyes, she glanced across the room. Lynn couldn't see what she was looking at from where she was on the floor. "So what's the plan now?"

"Well…" Lynn couldn't move anywhere. Susie was down for the count. Rosina certainly wasn't in any condition to transport either of them, even disregarding Lynn's back. That didn't leave a whole lot of options. At least it was an easy decision. "We're going to have to stay put. Wait for a Gallian patrol or unit to pass by. Maybe we can wave them down."

"I've heard Imperials moving past out there all morning," Rosina said reluctantly. "If there are any Gallians coming they're likely going to run into a lot of trouble. Even if they come in clean we could miss them. We're not really fit to keep watch, and I really don't want to stick my head out where someone can see it."

"That's the only chance we've got. Like it or not we're stuck until someone comes by. How long can Susie wait?"

Rosina's gaze shifted back across the room. "I don't know."

"Well how's she look?"

"She looks like she's been shot. Twice."

"Well yeah, I figured," Lynn said rolling her eyes. "Can you be more specific?"

"I told you, I'm not a medic. I don't know."

"Alright, fine." Taking a couple deep breaths Lynn squeezed her eyes shut. If she was going to get an idea of how long Susie could wait she would need to see the girl herself, and she couldn't do that with her face pressed against the floor. Planting her hands on the ground she readied herself to push.

"Woah, hold up there. What do you think you're doing?"

"I need to look around. I can't do that from here."

"You're just going to end up hurting yourself. Don't be stupid."

"A bit late for that… I'm already wearing the uniform." With a grunt she began to extend her right arm. The sharp pain cut through her again as the torque twisted her back. Pushing through the pain, Lynn lifted her leg off of the ground and drew it across her center line. With a crash she toppled over onto her back. The turn sent a wave of pain over her and tears welled up in her eyes. Within a moment the feeling passed, and she calmed down. She'd made it. Before she could celebrate a hollow pit opened up in her stomach. Something about the turn hadn't felt right.

"What's the matter?" Rosina asked noticing the fearful look in the woman's face.

"I… I don't know. Something didn't feel right."

"What do you mean 'didn't feel right'?"

"I don't know."

"Can you at least describe how it felt?"

Lynn shuddered. "It… Didn't."

Rolling her head out of her corner, Rosina groaned. "What didn't?"

"My leg."

"One or both?"

"Just the right."

There was another shuffling sound as Rosina crawled over to where Lynn was lying on the floor. With her head still hung, it was hard to tell whether or not she was looking where she was going. She stopped at Lynn's feet. "The right one?"

"…Yes."

Rosina glanced over the leg. Nothing looked wrong with it. "Can you move it?"

Glancing towards her toes, Lynn could see the tips of her boots sticking out over the rest of her body. Experimenting she extended her toes. The left boot tip dropped out of view behind her chest. The right didn't move. "No," she said with a whimper.

"OK," Rosina said. "Don't panic. I'm going to tap your leg. You need to tell me when you can feel it, alright?"

"I… I don't…"

"You need to tell me when you can feel it. I can't help you otherwise."

Lynn exhaled in sharp bursts. "O-OK."

"Good. Just stay calm." Rosina hit Lynn's leg above the ankle. When the woman didn't respond, she began moving higher up.

"T-There. I feel that."

"Right here?"

"Yeah. Right there."

Rosina looked down. Her hand rested just above Lynn's knee. "You can't move anymore, understand? No matter what."

"Yeah. Yeah, I understand."

"I'm serious this time."

"I know."

Crawling back, Rosina dropped her head back into her cradle. The way her head rested, Lynn was right in the center of her view. She looked like she was about to burst into tears. "Are you going to be alright?"

She didn't answer right away. Instead she twiddled her fingers over her stomach. "Yeah," she said weakly. "Yeah, I'll be alright." Lynn's fingers laced in and out as they moved over her. Not wanting to watch, Rosina twisted her neck. Her cheek rolled into her shoulder. There wasn't anything interesting to look at on the ground, but it was better than having to watch the fingers. "You know," Lynn said in an embarrassed voice. "I uh… I had this dream the other night. The war was over, right, and Karl and I were getting married. The day of the wedding came and I spent all day getting ready. I got my hair done. I put on all kinds of makeup… The whole shebang. I looked beautiful. It was the dress that did it though. Just this… Absolutely gorgeous dress. I adored it. By the time I'm finally ready the wedding's about to begin, so I run down into the church. Everyone was there. Friends… Family… Even everyone from the Squad showed up – blue uniforms and everything. Karl was standing in his suit up on the altar. He was smiling. My father took me by the arm and we started walking down the aisle. I think he was smiling wider than Karl was. When we made it half way to the altar he looked at me and whispered something, but his voice came in waves and I couldn't really make out what he said. Then I woke up." Rosina looked up from the floor in time to see a tear run down the side of Lynn's face. "I guess it won't work like that now. He'll have to push me."

Rosina swallowed. Another tear fell, but Lynn didn't move her eyes. She didn't even blink. "But he will push you."

"Yes," Lynn said with a smile. "Yes he will."

The two waited in silence. The light from the morning outside barely made it through the rubble of the ruined house. What light did make it through was dim and distorted. Lynn's fingers continued to twirl over her stomach. One by one they laced and unlaced, slowly moving in circles over one another. Resting her head back, Rosina closed her eyes and started to hum.

* * *

Next Engagement: Nihilism


	23. Nihilism

**Engagement 23: Nihilism**

The sound of storming feet and rustling gear filled his ears. Grasping his shotgun firmly, Nils ran with the rest of his section as his combat pack bounced loosely on his back. It was tight enough to stay on, but he'd personally loosened the straps in order to give him some breathing room. Despite recent events he was in a surprisingly decent mood. He was in the streets. All the familiar sights and smells filled his senses. Nils wasn't used to fighting through the city with so many people – his experience in urban combat before Vasel consisted mostly of gunning down a target or two at a time from behind – but he felt at home on roads boxed in on both sides by buildings. O'Hara was dead, but Daerden was very much alive and ready to kill. He smiled slightly, stroking the shotgun's grip lightly with his thumb. Being conscripted had put a hold on his rise within the underworld, but O'Hara's death brought new opportunities to rise within the hierarchy of the Militia. Despite constant complaints to Wulfstan about having to lead and work with others he wouldn't refuse any power handed his way, and if Catherine had to die for that he'd be willing to accept the price. She was a bitch anyway.

Progress had been slow after Linton began moving the platoon forward again. After the sniper attack, she'd opted to move the group forward in a state of high alert. Though they had a great deal of situational awareness, the men were moving at just above a snail's pace. They stopped at every corner and completely scouted out the area before moving forward – and all for nothing. The group hadn't run into a single Imperial patrol. Women. None of them had any balls. As far as Nils was concerned they were just above useless on the battlefield.

The rattling of equipment stopped as the group came to a halt against the corner of a large brick building that gave way to the next intersection. As the acting section leader Nils was second in formation. It was Melville's responsibility to check the corners. If he ended up buying it there wouldn't have to be a shift in command. Nils couldn't care less about Mel's well being, but now that he was in charge he didn't want to see one of his men go down; not because his death would break his heart, but because the loss in leverage would. He made sure to give the scout room to back up in a hurry if he needed to move.

Melville took a moment to slip his head around the corner. After a few seconds of scanning the area he pulled his head back and silently raised three fingers. Nils smirked. About time some targets cropped up. Turning, he waved for the rest of the platoon to move up. With some more thundering of feet and rustling of loose gear, the remaining Militiamen moved themselves up next to Daerden's group, stopping just out of sight around the corner of the building. "What do you got?" Ramona asked as the group came to a halt.

"I got three down this street," Melville replied. "They were moving down past the bend in the road. Could be more – I just caught the tail end of the group as they passed out of sight."

"And you're sure you counted three?"

"Positive. The one at the front looked like he was dragging something. Couldn't see what it was though. Looked heavy. He had his weapon slung, so I doubt he was at the front of the group."

"OK." Ramona looked at the street names at their intersection. This was their turnoff, so more than three Imperials or not they would have to follow them. "We're still going to have to take this road. Wulfstan, take Karl's group across the street. We'll advance down the road on each side of the street. If you catch sight of anything just send us a signal. We'll be looking out for it." She waved the group forward, and they began their run to the other side of the street. Ramona caught a glimpse of Karl's face as he stepped past. It was still white as a ghost. Reaching out her hand, she stopped Cherry before she could make her crossing. Her face had regained its color, but there were still some light black streaks running down her cheeks. Her load looked lighter as well. "Hey Cherry, where's the .30?"

"Oh, that…" Cherry said as her face turned red. "That thing is like, thirty pounds. It was totally tiring me out. Audrey offered to carry it though. She's stronger than I am, and since her lance and shotgun wouldn't be much use straight away I let her take it off my hands for a bit. Free up my own rifle, right?"

"Right." She was impressed. It actually wasn't a bad trade off, considering. "As long as you can still get to it in a hurry."

"For sure. Mann's carrying the tripod and ammo and Audrey's never too far away from where I am. We'd still have it up in a jiffy."

"Good work then." Cherry turned to move on, but Ramona grabbed her arm before she could start her crossing. Looking to make sure nobody else around would hear them, she lowered her voice. "Hey Cherry, how are you doing? You better?"

"Yeah. Totally. I'm sorry about before. I mean, Catherine was just a total shock and… I didn't want to just watch and do nothing but that was all I could do. I'm sorry. Won't happen again."

"You totally don't have to be sorry. I know how you felt. I think we all do, a little. But… I need you to promise me something, alright?"

Cherry's eyes narrowed, and her whispered reply came in a harsher tone than the one Ramona had used. "No. Absolutely not. You want to write your dad you're doing it yourself. There's no reason I should do it for you now, and there's not going to be one. I'll totally help you, but don't say something like that. It… It scares me."

The dark tone of her words struck through Ramona. It took a moment for them to sink in. "No. No, I don't mean that." She didn't realize how her vague request could have easily been interpreted like that. O'Hara had just been killed; letters pulled off of her body. Might not actually have been a bad idea. It wasn't what she was getting at, though. "I'm talking about Karl, Cherry. Take a look."

"Yeah," Cherry said without turning her head. "I know how he looks."

"Alright then. If he… If he _does _break down, I need to know that you can jump in and take command. You're next in line and… Well, can you?"

Cherry dropped her eyes to the street. "You wouldn't be asking this if I didn't have these streaks on my face, would you?"

"…No."

"I didn't think so." Nodding, she raised her head. "Don't worry. I've totally got it covered."

"I know." Placing her hand on her friend's shoulder, Ramona smiled. "I'm sorry that I had to ask."

"No. Have to be sure. I _am_ sure now though. Don't worry."

"I'm not. Now go on, we've wasted too much time with this already."

With a wink Cherry departed to join the rest of her section. Nils couldn't hear what the two had been talking about, but he knew it made him mad. Gossiping instead of fighting. If Linton hadn't been in charge he'd have shot them himself. Wouldn't have been much of a loss. It certainly would have motivated the rest of the group.

With Cherry gone, Ramona slid into position just behind Nils. He had to admit that her plain face was still remarkably pretty, but that was about as far as her use went. A pretty face and nothing more. She was a well built machine for the one pleasure women were worth. In that regard he had to give her credit. That didn't mean he had to respect her. Nevertheless, he still had to follow orders, and she was the one giving them. "We're moving forward," she said. "Keep your eyes open for any groups we don't know about."

Like she needed to tell him. "Yeah. Get moving." Reaching forward he gave Melville a slight push. Stepping sideways, the scout rounded the corner, and the rest of the unit followed him down the street. The road was narrow, and the two columns on either side of the way clung tightly to their respective side. Though there wasn't much distance between them, neither group wanted to be caught in the middle of the street. On the edges they could at least take cover in a doorway or behind a stoop, but the middle of the road offered no protection. If the Imperials really were carrying something heavy they would be bound to catch up to them eventually, and nobody wanted to be caught with their pants down.

While Rodez was a smaller city, the narrow roads and cramped buildings reminded him of his home back in Randgriz. It wasn't a nice place, but it suited him just fine. The confined space was just enough room for him – and no one else. Any company he brought in – usually lower level thugs or muscle – wouldn't have room to stick around past their welcome. The bed was big enough for the occasional woman he brought in, but he made sure to kick them out before breakfast. A couple had tried to convince him to let them stick around, but they soon regretted the effort. Life was easier alone, and women were worthless. If he had to put them in their place to get the point across, so be it.

Looking back Nils could see the rest of the section following behind him. With seven people under his thumb he was in control of more muscle than he'd ever known. Back in Rangriz he'd brought three or four people along if he knew things were going to get really heavy, but he'd never been in command of a group like this. Disciplined. Well equipped. The power at his disposal brought a smile to his lips. With a group like this he could complete his rise and take over the Randgriz underworld in no time flat. Even though he hated having been conscripted and considered it a waste of time, he knew the lessons learned in the Militia would help him later when he got back to real business. In a sick way he was looking forward to it.

Distracted, he hardly noticed that the group had stopped. Stopping just inches behind Melville, he had to take a step back in order to keep his distance. Looking over, he noticed that the group across the street had dropped to their knees. Near the front Marina scanned the road ahead through her scope. Letting her weapon slack, she rose up a bit and looked with her naked eyes. After a moment, she lifted her gun above her head before raising four fingers. Behind Nils, Ramona leaned out into the street. She couldn't see anything. Pointing at Marina, she waved for the sniper to cross over.

Making sure she would be out of sight, Marina scanned the road once more before crossing the street. Moving in a hunch, she ran across to the scout that had beckoned her over. "Four of them?" Ramona asked. "Was it the same group we saw before?"

"Yeah," Marina replied. "Four of them up. They're still moving down the same way we're going. I assume they're headed in the same direction we are."

"Did you see what they were carrying?"

Marina nodded. "Another soldier. Looks like they had a casualty. One of them is carrying him on a rack so they're moving pretty slowly. If we get the initiative we could take them all down pretty quickly."

"We could. Couldn't we just keep lagging behind them though? Better to avoid a fight, right?"

"Normally I'd agree, but if they're going the same place we are we don't want to have to deal with four extra guns once they can ditch the wounded one."

"That's right," Nils said. "Take them while they're weak. Don't give them a chance to regroup. We're stronger than they are now, and we know that. We don't know how strong they'll be when they get to where they're going."

Ramona leaned out into the street again. She still couldn't see the targets, but she knew they must have been just around the corner. "Alright then. Keep moving forward. When you come into contact range we'll take them down. Did they see you?"

"No," Marina said. "I don't think so."

"Keep moving up then. We'll see you near the corner."

As Marina ran back to her group Nils gave Melville another push. "You heard the plan. Let's go." The platoon was moving again. This time they knew where the enemy was, and they were going in for the kill. The feeling brought back memories. A hit here, a hit there… Killing Imps wasn't much different – just legal. Not that it made a difference to him.

Finally hitting the corner, Karl and Marina's group crossed back over to rejoin the rest of the platoon. They waited as Melville checked for the Imperials. "I've got nothing," he said when he brought his head back. "No sign of them at all."

"What do you mean 'no sign of them at all'?" Nils asked. "It's not like they were moving very fast."

"Do you want to take a look? I checked the corner and they weren't there."

"Fine, get out of my way. Goddamn useless piece of…" As he stuck his own head around the corner, Nils could see that Mel was right. There wasn't any sign of the group. Grumbling, he pulled back. "Yeah," he admitted reluctantly. "They're gone."

"Think they turned that corner up ahead already?"

"I don't see how they could have. They would have to have been really moving to make it, and with that man down I doubt they would have been able to."

"So… They just disappeared?"

Nils struck Melville upside the head. "Don't be ridiculous. There are a lot of hiding places in the city. They probably caught scent of us and tucked into one of those buildings."

Ramona crept a little closer to the corner. "So they're waiting to ambush us?"

"No, probably not. If they did catch a glimpse of us they know they're overpowered, and with one man down they would be sitting ducks. I'm guessing they're just hoping we pass them by."

"Can we?"

"More than likely," Nils considered. "Our mission has nothing to do with taking them out, so if they're too chicken to fight we can move past them without incident, make it to the objective, and book it back before they can regroup with their unit."

"I don't like it."

"What the Hell do you mean you don't like it? It doesn't get any better than this."

"It's just…" Ramona stuck her own head around the corner. As the two Militiamen had already told her, the way was clear. "Even if we don't fight I don't like the idea of leaving our rear unsecured."

Melville loosed his grip on his rifle. The weapon dropped a bit in his hands. "It's not like we'd be leaving ourselves completely open," he said. "Watching the rear is still standard procedure. If they do pop up again we'd see them before they'd be much of a threat, and with only four of them against a whole platoon we could make quick work of them."

"For once I agree with the clown," Nils said. "The weak don't lash out at the strong unless you back them into a corner. As long as we just pass them by we'll be alright."

"I still don't like the idea," Ramona said pursing her lips.

"Irrelevant." Marina stood with her Mags pressed against her chest, barrel pointed at the ground. "The point remains that we have to go down that road, enemies or not. Debating it is useless. We'll have to move on one way or the other."

Looking back, Ramona could see that the platoon was waiting behind her. Like it or not, Marina was right. They would have to move on. "We're taking it slow. Keep your eyes on the buildings. If you see anything suspicious, don't hesitate. Two columns. Let's go."

Rounding the corner, the two sections advanced on opposite sides of the road. With weapons raised, they searched the road ahead for the Imperials. Every window of every building was carefully checked by each passing eye as the groups moved by. Still clear. While the rest of the group covered the buildings, Melville watched the road ahead. If the Imperials were still around they'd done a good job of hiding themselves. Keeping the weapon aimed at the ground slightly ahead of him, he watched the stoops ahead. Just when he was about to begin scanning further up the road, a slight bit of movement behind one of the small stairways gave him pause. "Hold it," he called behind him as he raised his rifle.

"What is it?" Nils asked behind him.

"Thought I saw—" Before he finished the sentence a helmeted figure popped out from behind the stoop. Melville fired his rifle before the Imperial's armored head was fully visible. "Down!"

Dropping to their knees, the sections on either side of the road pressed themselves against the buildings and took cover in a line behind the stoops ahead of them. The sound of gunfire filled the street, and the incoming fire flew past the crouched combatants. At the front of either group, Melville and Hermes pressed up against the stoops and began to return fire. Well fortified behind their own stoops, the Imperials continued their barrage despite the incoming bullets.

Raising her head momentarily, Ramona scouted the enemy line. There was one Imperial behind a stoop on either side of the road. Only two enemies were visible. The other two and the wounded man were unaccounted for. Dropping back down, she waved over across the street before raising two fingers. Pointing to Cherry, she motioned for her to move forward and lay down some fire.

Grabbing Claudia and Audrey, Cherry led the group over to the edge of the stoop. Setting down the tripod, Claudia began to pull out the weapon's ammunition while Audrey set up the gun. Within moments the machine gun barked as Cherry pulled the trigger. Lying on her stomach, she raked her fire across the Imperial's cover, sending the men for shelter.

With Cherry's fire keeping the Imperials suppressed Melville stopped shooting and began looking for an alternative to taking them head on. "What do you see up there?" Ramona asked behind him.

"I've got nothing but road. Best chance would be to keep them suppressed and move up close enough to hit them with a grenade."

"Hold up." Nils pulled Mel back and took his place on the stoop. Taking a look up the street he smirked. "No, we've got a better route. Alleyway. Looks like that's how they pulled out of sight. We can move into it if the machine gun keeps its fire up. If we follow the alley we can catch the Imps on their flank. Keep them fixed and we'll take care of the rest."

"Any chance of the other three being down there?" Ramona asked.

"If we're lucky. Wouldn't be bad to take them all in one swoop."

"Take Young, Hawkins, and Salinger then. The rest of us will keep them busy here."

Gathering up the three men, Nils waited for Cherry to chew through the rest of her current ammo belt before moving. As she stopped to reload, the rest of the platoon jumped out to lay down some covering fire. With the barrage going on behind them, the small group was able to step out from behind their cover and run ahead into the street. The bullets from the covering fire blasted the area surrounding the Imperials. They didn't watch to see what kind of damage the assault did though – instead they moved straight into the entrance to the alley and out of the Imperial's field of fire. As the last of them ducked into the alley, the Gallian barrage ended, and Cherry's .30 caliber started up another sweep of the road in front of it. Moving through the narrow walkway, the group could hear the weapon chew through the belt behind them.

Taking the lead, Melville walked up to the next corner. The turn would take them down a path parallel to the street. Following it, they would wind up on the Imperial's flank, where they would be completely exposed. Checking the corner, Melville saw that it was clear. He began to step forward, but Nils grabbed him by the shoulder. "I'm taking point on this one," the man said.

"Hm? Why?"

"Alleys are my turf, kid. Just stick behind me, alright?"

Not wanting to argue, Mel slid into position behind Nils. Shouldering his shotgun, the bigger man stepped around the corner. As the kid had indicated, it was clear. Slowly walking forward, he noticed that the alley seemed vaguely familiar. An alleyway was an alleyway, after all, and this one didn't seem much different than the ones back home. Making sure there weren't any surprises hiding behind the loose boxes and trashcans lining the walkway, he continued down the path, checking each corner he passed that led out towards the street. Estimating the distance they'd traveled down the alley, the next corner would put them on a direct line with the Imperials. Making sure his group was still behind him Nils walked up and poked his head out. The two Imperials were concentrating on the group still on the road. They had a clear line of fire on them.

"Here we go," Nils said quietly. "Straight shot from here. Mel, keep our back covered. You two can go to town on them. Make sure to take both before—" A noise in the alley stopped him.

Mica placed his finger on his weapon's trigger. "Daerden? What's the matter?"

"Quiet." Looking up and down the alley, he searched for the source of the noise. It was empty. The alley was his home, but it held its fare share of secrets. "No, nothing. Probably just some damn animal scrounging around. We've got work to do. Hit the corner and take them –" The noise that interrupted him was deafening in the tight space of the ally this time. Seeking the source, Nils looked up just in time to see two helmeted silhouettes on the roof of the building above them before the wall of the alley exploded.

Under a cloud of smoke and dust, the shock troopers unloaded their weapons on the rooftops above. When the cloud settled enough to see above them they saw that the Imperials that had ambushed them were already gone. Turning the corner with his weapon raised, Hannes saw that the Imperials who had hidden behind the stoops had gone as well. "Everyone good?"

"Yeah," Mel replied as he brought himself back to his feet. The blast had knocked him to the ground, and his weapon lay across the alley.

Next to him, Mica reloaded his Mags. "All good here." Looking around, he saw Nils sitting against the wall next to the corner. "Daerden? You alright?"

"Yeah yeah," the man said dropping his shotgun onto his lap. "Just got the wind knocked out of me."

"All clear then." Hannes walked towards where the Imperials had been hiding behind the stoops. Waving around the corner, he called for the rest of the platoon to move up.

Picking up his rifle, Melville took a seat across from Nils. "Any idea where they could have gone?"

"No idea," Mica said. "They just disappeared again. It didn't look like the rest of our guys got them, but I can't think of where they could have ran."

"Maybe slipped through one of the buildings after we got ambushed?"

"Most likely. If these buildings are connected like the ones we moved through the other day they could be all the way down the street. I guess we know the guys on the roof were moving through the houses."

"Yeah." Melville stretched his neck before continuing. "Hey, that seemed really coordinated. Do you think they planned that?"

"The ambush?"

"Yeah."

Mica shrugged. "How did they know we wouldn't just move up and grenade them though?"

"I don't know. That just seemed really… planned. Like they knew where we were going before we did."

"Nah. They got lucky. I'll bet they know it, too. I doubt we'll be seeing them again."

"Yeah, you're probably right. With only four of them it wouldn't be smart to…" Melville's voice trailed off as his jaw dropped. "Oh holy shit."

"What?" Mica's eyes widened at the sight of Mel's face. Whatever had stopped him had been very alarming. "What's the matter?"

"Nils, dude. You're bleeding."

Nils looked up at the scout's face. "Am I?"

"Yeah dude. Your stomach man."

Looking down, Nils saw that the uniform across his stomach had been torn. The area around it had begun to soak through with blood. "I'll be damned…"

Melville jumped up. "Hannes! Hey Hannes!" From down the path the shock trooper turned towards the voice. "Call up Mina, man! Call up the doc!"

A few seconds later, Mina ran into the alley flanked by Ramona and a handful of other Militiamen. Sliding her pack off of her back, she reached in and pulled out her medical equipment. "What happened?"

"Explosive. Probably a grenade round."

"And he's the only one hit?"

"Yeah."

Kneeling in front of the injured man, Mina took a quick glance over the wound. The torn fabric of his uniform blocked view of the actual injury, but the blood that soaked through began to cover his lap. "I'm going to have to take a look, OK?"

"Yeah, I figured as much," Nils said. "Just do what you have to do." Tentatively, Mina grabbed the loose fabric above the wound. Preparing herself, she lifted the flap and looked over the damage. A slight gag pushed its way into her throat, but she swallowed it back down. Looking up, she made sure that Nils hadn't seen her lose her composure. He had. "That bad, eh?"

"No. No, it's really not."

"Women." He sneered. "Everything you whores say is a lie."

"Excuse me?"

"You were lying to me, weren't you?"

Dipping back into her kit, Mina sorted through her bandages. "I'll patch you up. Just don't talk, alright?"

"Why? Because I'm injured or because you don't like me calling you a whore?"

Mina stopped for a moment. "A little bit of both," she admitted.

"There," Nils laughed. "First step towards honesty." In front of him, Mina pulled out a large compress. As she began to clear the area around Nils's stomach, he raised his hand to stop her. "Don't bother. Save the supplies. You'll need it later."

"I can't leave you like this."

"Sure you can. Don't kid me, I saw that look you gave me. We both know I'm not getting back up. Just shoot me up with some of that Ragnaid and be on your way."

Mina pressed forward with the compress. "I can't leave you like this," she repeated. "I swore an oath of service, and part of my duty includes treating the injured."

Mina stopped when Nils grabbed the compress. "I'm smoked, and in all honesty if I'm going to die I'd like to do so in my own company." He looked up towards the other Gallians surrounding him. "Linton. Order her to shoot me up. Then keep moving. You're already behind, and you don't have time to waste waiting for me to go out."

Ramona could only stare. "You… You want us to leave you? Alone?"

"Yes."

"You want to die? Alone?"

He rolled his eyes before smiling. "Everyone dies alone, Linton, and if it's my turn to go I don't want to have to listen to you all babble while I'm doing it."

"You're serious?"

"A man can be himself only so long as he is alone," he replied.

Moments passed in silence. Mina looked up expectantly. The rest of the group still stood huddled around the alleyway. "Fine," Ramona said turning away from the scene. "If that's your last request… We'll head out."

"Thank you," Nils said as he let Melville grab the shotgun from off of his lap. "That isn't my last request though."

Ramona stopped in her tracks. "Then what is?"

"When you're all gone, I want to have a word with Wulfstan before you move out."

"I'll let her know." With the other grunts in tow, she walked out of the alley and back onto the street. Left alone, Nils took another look around the alley. It really did remind him of his gang back home. Where would they be without him to lead them anymore? That didn't matter to him now – if it ever had in the first place. Hearing a new set of footsteps approach him down the lane, he wiped the smile off of his face and turned his head.

Marina stopped at the wall across from where he sat. For a long while the two just stared at each other. Neither one seemed willing to initiate the conversation. Shifting her gaze, Marina checked her watch before looking back down at the man. "You've never wanted anything from me before. What do you want now, Daerden?"

Rolling his head back, Nils closed his eyes. "There is no doubt that life is given us, not to be enjoyed, but to be overcome; to be got over."

With a sigh, Marina sat down across from him. "And the second best thing is to die soon, am I right?"

"You're catching on," he said with a smirk.

"Actually I think you're full of shit."

The smirk disappeared. "Guess you're not quite there yet."

"I'd ask what your point is, but I don't believe that you believe you have one."

With a laugh he shrugged. "I guess I don't." Taking his eyes off of the woman, he looked down the alleyway. Something about it was comforting. After a moment's worth of nostalgia he turned back to Marina. "Still, Wulfstan… The rest is… up to you. You see things for what they really are. You say I'm full of shit, but you know I'm right. Remember what I said, and don't let that Linton cunt or anyone else fuck this all up."

"How can she fuck it up if it doesn't matter in the first place?"

"Don't dodge the issue," Nils said with a glare. "I don't care about you, and once everything is over nobody else will either, but I know behind that apathy you try so hard to push you don't want to fail any more than anyone else. You're better off alone, but in order to survive until you can get there you're going to have to use your pawns, and in order to do that you need to know them."

"So that's all they are? Tools?"

"Everyone's a tool for someone, Wulfstan. There aren't any rules except for those you impose on yourself. If you need to do something or use someone to get the job done, you do it. You can't afford to make friends. Almost all of our sorrows spring out of our relations..."

"Our relations with other people," she cut in. "Yeah, I know that one too. You have anything new to say or are you just going to waste my time quoting old dead guys."

"Blunt as ever," Nils sighed. "Shame that my last conversation had to be with you. I could think of some prettier faces to go out to. Oh well. I guess that doesn't matter either."

There was a long pause between the two. "I don't get you," Marina said finally.

"Yes you do." Nils's gaze had drifted back down the alley. "Don't kid yourself."

"Are we done here? I've got places to be."

"And I've got nowhere to be," he said with another smile. "I'm looking forward to it, actually."

"Well," Marina said standing. "I guess that makes one of us. Goodbye, Daerden"

"Goodbye, Wulfstan."

Her footsteps faded as she left the alley. Once again he closed his eyes. He could see nothing but darkness behind his eyelids. Pretty soon he wouldn't see even that. Nils really was looking forward to it.

* * *

After the ambush, the platoon dropped back to its snail's pace. The Imperial group had only consisted of four able men, but the meticulously calculated nature of the attack disturbed them. Even though they chalked it up to bad luck, the Militiamen couldn't help but notice how it seemed like they'd played right into the Imperial's hands. If anyone hadn't been on edge before, they were now. The route hadn't changed though – it couldn't change. There was only one way to go, and they'd take it; Imperials or not. Just in case though, each column had a second pair of eyes watching the road ahead.

Before long, Karl's column stopped. At the front, Hermes signaled for the group to get low. Looking over, Ramona watched as he raised his hand – along with four fingers. He dropped his hand with a grimace. After a minute of waiting, he motioned her over. "Don't tell me," she said when she'd dropped herself next to him.

"Yeah. Four of them."

"Same group?"

"Yeah," he almost groaned. "Looked like it."

Ramona wiped her arm across her face before rising up to check he road ahead. "Where did they go?"

"Through that gateway on the right," Hermes said pointing to a small gap in a low wall on the road's right side.

"OK, let's see what that is…" Pulling out the map, Ramona set it on the ground. Finding their position, she traced the road forward to where the wall stood. On the other side there was a large courtyard. There was no way to tell from the map whether there was a back exit or not. Tapping her fingers on the ground, she used her free hand to wave over Marina, Karl, and Hannes. After losing Daerden, Salinger took his position at the head of 3rd section. As the three made it over to her, she explained the situation. They didn't look any happier about it than she did.

Karl looked over the map before eying the gateway himself. He tried to hide it, but there was a slight shake in his knees. It didn't go unnoticed. "Can't we bypass it again? I mean, why try to push our luck? They're not our problem. Ly… 1st section is."

"I know, but…" Ramona shook her head. "I don't think we can leave them. If they don't hit us now they will when we pass them again on our way back. We have superior numbers and we know where they are now. As long as there isn't a back exit they're in there, and if there is then they're gone and no longer an issue."

"What if it's another ambush?"

"No," Hannes said. "They got lucky the first time. They'll have nowhere to run now. Damn Imps won't know what hit them."

Ramona folded up the map. "So we're settled?" Hannes nodded. After a moment of thought, Karl followed suit. Marina didn't move, but she didn't object. That was about the closest thing to consent she was going to get. "M'kay. Stack up on the wall. Grenades in first. Once they go off we storm the place in force. There are only four up, so we've got them in firepower. Just make sure that your target doesn't get back up once he's down."

Forming one big line, the platoon advanced on the courtyard. As they approached they could see the tops of a couple of trees sticking out above the wall. Reaching the open gateway, Ramona stepped back and thrust her fist forward. Behind the line of shock troopers at the front, Ted, Nadine, and Ramsey each pulled out a grenade. With a nod, Ramona signaled for them to arm the weapons. Pulling the draw strings, they tossed the explosives over the wall. Before they went off, the throwers pressed themselves against the wall and covered their heads. In three successive blasts, the ground shook and dirt was sent over the wall. "Move in!" Stepping back, Ramona let the shock troopers pass her by and run into the courtyard. "Go, go! Keep moving!" After the last shock trooper moved through she stepped into line and ran through the gateway.

The courtyard was shaded by the canopies of the trees that dotted the open spaces. Cutting through the center of the small garden a path made its way from the gateway to the doorway of a large building. A low stone wall lined either side of the path. While most of the rest of the city lay in ruins, the courtyard had been mostly spared – until they'd thrown in the grenades. Small patches of grass and dirt had been thrown up, littering the surrounding area with debris. The well being of the garden would have to be a secondary concern though. Fighting would be the first.

As Ramona moved up to the low stone wall four light flashes appeared within the shade ahead. Those who had made it to the wall ducked below its top as the incoming bullets flew past. Those who hadn't dropped to their stomachs. She couldn't see the bullets fly past as they shot over the wall, but Ramona could certainly hear them. For four Imperials there was an awful lot of incoming fire. There was also something strange about the reports their weapons created. They didn't sound like the standard issue Imperial equipment. Lifting her rifle above the wall, she blindly fired off a volley of shots.

"Grenade!" A voice yelled next to her. A moment later it was followed by a second.

"Grenade!"

Ramona covered her head. One after another the grenades that the Gallians had thrown exploded. The noise of the blasts echoed throughout the courtyard. Lifting her head again, she aimed her rifle in the direction she'd seen one of the muzzle flashes before hitting the wall. The garden was hazy now, filled with smoke and dirt from the explosives and gunfire. She couldn't see the flashes anymore, but that didn't stop her from finishing off her current magazine. Once she'd emptied, she dropped back below the wall and searched out familiar faces. To her left she could see Karl and Hannes fighting on the wall. "Salinger! Landzatt!" They couldn't hear her. Keeping crouched below the wall, she ran over to their position and hit them on their backs. "Hey!"

Stopping their fire, the two section leaders ducked under cover. Karl's head jerked as a chunk of the wall flew off and nicked him on the shoulder. "Linton! What's going on?"

"They've got to have some kind of emplacement up there. We're going to have to flank it. Each of you leave a quarter of your unit here to keep some fire on them and move the rest of your group around the side of the wall. Landzatt, you're with Wulfstan. Salinger, you're with me. Got it?"

Another explosion sent their heads for cover. When she looked back up, Karl was already on the move. With Hannes in tow, Ramona moved back down the wall. Leaving Ted, Mica, and Herbert behind, the rest of the group moved towards the edge of the wall. At the end it took a 90 degree turn towards the back of the garden. It wouldn't cover their front, but it would cover their side. Taking a deep breath, she rounded the corner and pushed forward. Stray rounds flew over their heads as they crept along the wall, not daring to rise above its lip. Through the haze Ramona could no longer see the other end of the courtyard. The walls that lined the sides had doors leading into the buildings that surrounded the garden, but it didn't seem that the Imperials had gone into them. Looking into the large bay windows she could see that they were empty. Unable to tell where the enemy stood, the line of troops advanced along the wall towards the other side of the garden.

Through the haze Ramona thought she saw movement. Weapon already raised, she fired. Four shots soared through the air and disappeared into nothingness. Drawing a quick breath, she ejected her weapon's magazine and loaded in a new one. While there were still rounds left in the one she'd ejected, it wasn't full, and she didn't want to move forward with half a load. Checking to make sure her group had kept pace, she pushed forward again.

The sound of gunfire still filled the air, but the fire directed at her group had stopped. Edging towards the end of the wall, she saw that it once again cut left 90 degrees. This time it wouldn't provide any cover though. The Imps would be either in front of them or to their sides. Pausing for a moment she scouted out the area ahead. Just ahead of them, another set of walls crossed the courtyard. That was their best bet. Signaling the group forward, they ran through the open space, stopping only when they'd reached the relative safety of the stone wall. This one was higher – high enough to stand under. Resting a bit easier, Ramona tapped Hannes on the shoulder. "Take a group left around the wall. I'll go right. We'll try to catch them between us. Watch what you're shooting at in the entryways though – it could be us." He nodded before running off to find a firing position. Taking her group to the right, Ramona stopped at the first large doorway and let Hector and Ramsey step ahead of her. Each of them armed a grenade and tossed it through the opening. The blasts sent a wave of dirt rolling out of the doorway. Before it had settled the two had their weapons trained on the space beyond the entryway.

Barely exposed beyond the wall, Ramsey's gun blasted into the large enclosed space. "I see him! Further on up ahead!"

While Ramsey blasted away, Hector tossed another grenade over the wall. As it exploded, Ramona scouted the wall for another doorway to fire from. Seeing one further up, she left the other two troopers to keep the Imperial busy. Sliding over to its edge, she poked as little of her head around the corner as she possibly could. It was enough to see the Imperial. From her doorway she'd have a clear shot. Stepping around the corner she raised her rifle and fired. Stumbling as she stepped, her first shot went wide. Steadying herself, she put his head in her sights and drew back on the trigger a second time. The weapon didn't fire. She looked down at the rifle. Jammed. "Fuck!"

Having heard the first gunshot, the Imperial turned to look for the shooter. For a moment they locked eyes. Ramona's gaze fell on the black band printed across the Imperial's pauldron. For a second she couldn't move. Coming to her senses she dropped the rifle. There wouldn't be any time to fix the jam. Instead she reached for the handgun tied down to her thigh. As she began to draw the Imperial completed his turn and began to raise his own weapon. Clearing her holster, Ramona flicked the gun's safety and brought the weapon up. Only her first shot was aimed. After the first round left the chamber she wildly pulled the trigger, sending bullets flying all across the space in front of her. As the handgun's slide locked back she saw that only her first shot – the only one she'd aimed – had actually hit. Still holding his weapon in one hand, the Imperial supported the wrist she'd shot on his good arm. Seeing that her weapon was empty, he swung his gun around and pulled his weapon's trigger himself. Shooting one handed his rounds flew about as wildly as Ramona's had, but he had the advantage of volume. The machine gun rattled as he desperately tried to keep his wild aim steady.

As the bullets slammed into the wall around her, Ramona jumped through the entryway she'd come through and landed on her back around the corner. Safe for the moment, she reached into her chest rig and pulled out another handgun mag. The slide jumped forward as she slammed it into the weapon, and she brought the gun back up, covering the narrow gap in the wall. _Come on buddy. Turn that corner. _She waited. Nothing came. Still on her back, she didn't dare to move. Any second now he would round the bend, and she'd be waiting. The gun trembled in her hands. Still, he didn't turn the corner. Something else did.

There was a soft thump as that something hit the ground next to Ramona's head. Shifting her gaze for only a second, she instinctively turned her head towards the noise. Her mouth fell open, but nothing came out. Lying next to her was an Imperial grenade.

Her grip on the gun loosened. Letting her shoulders sag, she let out a quick, shallow breath. That was all there was to it.

_Papa… I'm sorry._

Then there was nothing.

* * *

Next Engagement: Topless


	24. Topless

**Engagement 24: Topless**

Nothing didn't turn out to be the blissful ignorance Nils had made it out to be. Rolling over onto her stomach, Ramona tried to find her bearings enough to support herself on her elbow. After the grenade went off the battle seemed to have ended. She couldn't hear gunfire. In fact, she couldn't hear anything. The world had gone completely silent around her. Forehead still pressed against the ground, she slowly propped herself up. Shaking, she had to use her other elbow to keep herself from falling over. A sudden wave of dizziness sent her toppling back over as she tried to lift her head. That feeling wasn't new – low blood pressure.

Fighting for breath she struggled to open her eyes. The absolute silence was terrifying, but if she could put a picture to it she could bear with it. Ramona felt like she'd been slapped in the face. There was a numb weight pressing on her left cheek, and her eyes felt like they were swollen shut, but if all she'd lost was her hearing for a little while she'd happily take the deal. Not many people survived eating a grenade from that close. It wasn't unheard of though. She was sure she'd be hearing bells for the next couple of days, at the very least. _Just get my eyes open._

Her eyes still felt like they were glued shut. Ramona couldn't lift her head without toppling over, so she worked her eyes with her head hanging. It felt heavy drooping down below her shoulders. She hadn't remembered it feeling that heavy before. The area around her eyes felt different as well. It scratched and stretched as she tried to pry the eyelids apart. The sensation became more acute with each attempt. Within moments it started to hurt. It wasn't a sharp pain, but a dull, hard one. An itchy, wet one. It spread across the top of her face and melted in with the weight on her cheek. If she could open her eyes she could wave someone down to check her out, but they still wouldn't budge. Risking a fall, she lifted her gloved hand to her eyes. The dull pain turned into a searing burn at the points her fingers made contact. As the sudden onset of agony dropped her to the ground, she realized that her problem wasn't that she couldn't open her eyes – it was that they were already open.

The thought hit her at the exact moment she hit the ground. It was almost as if the realization hit a switch in her body that turned on feeling. Ramona liked the nothing better. As terrifying as it was, it wasn't full of the piercing, stabbing pain that racked her face. If she could have, she would have screamed. The noise stuck in the back of her throat. She wouldn't have heard it anyway. With her entire body shaking, she fumbled to take off one of her gloves. The clip seemed to pass through her fingers, mocking her as she clumsily attempted to loosen the material. Finally the button gave way, and the flap that held the glove tightly to her wrist hung loosely off her hand. With one long and shaky sweep Ramona slid her right glove off and let it fall to the ground.

Her hand trembled as she raised it to her face. While her head was still drooping down off of her shoulders, it felt like she'd lifted it feet off of the ground. She hadn't made it to her face before she felt a warm patter coat her bare skin. It was sickeningly familiar, and the recognition made her stomach lurch. _That Imperial's throat… _Any air that was left in her lungs left the moment the blood hit her hand. She couldn't hear an actual scream. Instead her mind was filled with the low gurgling sound the Imperial had made as she'd driven her knife through his throat. Ramona felt her arm push the blade in further as her own blood spilled over onto her hand. The man's dying cries were deafening over the sound of absolute silence. Her next breath escaped faster than she could bring it in.

Gasping for more air – any air – her blood stained hand grasped for anything she could use to pull herself back up. Sifting through the dirt, Ramona grabbed onto a clump of grass. Her fingers tore into it, leaving a slick, wet substance behind them. Still on her stomach, she curled her knees into her chest, lifting herself slightly off of the ground. Any air she brought in left before she could make any discernible use of it. Letting go of the grass, she brought her hand to her throat. She should have been slightly relieved when she felt that there wasn't a gaping tear in her neck. She wasn't. The image of the Imperial falling to his knees, blood spurting out of the gap between his helmet and chest plate was still fresh in her mind. Fresher than when it had actually happened, even. The fact that she couldn't breathe wasn't helping matters. Ramona struggled to keep any air she could manage to suck in. It seemed she was fighting a losing battle. _Please don't be a collapsed lung. Anything else. Please._

A low ringing finally cut through the silence surrounding her. She still couldn't hear anything else, but she could feel her heart pounding through her chest. It was working about as fast as she'd ever felt it work through any drill sergeant's toughest PT. She still felt dizzy. Planting her hands on the ground Ramona held herself on all fours, head lolling and hair brushing against the ground below her. Her hand had been pulled away from the dripping blood falling from wherever it was she was hurt, but she could still imagine it. She couldn't see so she stayed in place, hoping that the battle going on around her would somehow pass her by.

Whether the battle had ended or not, someone had seen her on the ground. Through her equipment she could feel a hand place itself on her left flank. The second landed at the base of her right shoulder. Feeling the hand so close to her own neck sent a jolt through her. Her heart – which had been pounding away just seconds before – stopped in an instant. The hand was going for her throat.

_Can't happen to me. _Thrusting back, Ramona threw her elbow into the open space behind her. The effort made her head spin, and her already overworked lungs ache, but she made contact with something soft. Retreating, the hands left her body. Not wanting to waste any time, Ramona crawled forward as fast as she could. The fact that she couldn't see where she was going didn't make any difference. All she wanted was away from there. Anywhere but there. She didn't make it far.

The hands pressed down against her back, this time throwing her down onto her stomach. Reaching for her side, they rolled her over onto her back and held her in place. Ramona struggled as hard as she could, but whoever was holding her down was much stronger than she was. If he wanted her dead there wouldn't be anything she could do about it. The ringing was louder now. She almost thought she could hear voices. She was pretty sure she could hear screaming. _Someone else was hit too. _Ramona couldn't tell who it was. She could hear more yelling now – both from the other casualty and the people yelling around them. It sounded like Hell.

More hands covered her body. They must have been Gallian, seeing as her throat hadn't been slit by the first set. _Try to stay calm, _she told herself. _Mina will help you. _Calm didn't come. The air still wouldn't stay in her chest. She couldn't tell why. Ramona didn't feel any pain except for the excruciating sensation in her face, but that didn't keep her from fearing the worst. One of the first things they'd been taught was that sometimes people didn't even realize they'd been shot before they keeled over. She hadn't run her hands over her torso. If the grenade had sent a payload of iron through her chest she might not have noticed the effects yet. That scared her in more ways than one. Obviously, she didn't want to die. A pierced lung didn't sound like a pleasant way to go, nor did bleeding out from a mangled heart. A little less obviously – and secondary in concern– she didn't want any permanent damage done. While the actual target was admittedly a bit smaller than she could have hoped, Ramona was still proud of her chest. It had helped make her more than a tiny bit of money, after all. If there was any permanent damage… _Let Mina take care of that._

Ramona's heart was pounding again. The voices were coming in louder, but they were still drowned out by the ringing that pervaded her ears. She tried to stop fighting against the hands holding her down, but somehow she couldn't stop. A moment later she realized she wasn't actually fighting, she was just shaking so hard that it felt like she was. Forgetting about fighting back, she strained her ears for a voice. Any voice would do. Concentrating, she tried to drown out whoever was screaming and focus on any actual words. They barely came through. "…ona y… to s… ming! St… ng." The words faded in and out. It was hard to get a grip on any sort of message. "Ramo… alm dow… Please s… Scream…"

She'd heard her name. That was followed by some sort of command. What had it been? _Screaming. Stop screaming. _As another wasted breath left her lungs she realized what the voice had meant. _I'm the one screaming. _Made sense. That would explain the lungs. Taking a deep breath, Ramona consciously tried to keep herself from screaming. She was mildly successful. This breath held for a second before bursting out. The next breath held for half a second more, and the third scream after that was the last one. She still couldn't hold her breaths in for very long, but at least now she wasn't screaming bloody murder. The voices were a lot easier to make out now that the extra noise had disappeared as well. They still sounded like they were at the other end of a very long, underwater tunnel, but she could hear them.

"Ramona, can you hear me?" A young woman's voice. Mina.

"Y-Yeah. Barely," she managed.

"OK, good." There was a momentary pause. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Her hearing had at least slightly returned. Her vision had not. "I can't see."

"At all?"

"N-No."

"Alright. Don't worry, I'm going to fix you, OK? You just need to stay calm. Can you do that?"

Ramona's body writhed under the hands holding her down. If they let go she would probably shake herself off the ground. "What happened?"

"Some kind of explosive went off next to you. You're alright though. Relax."

The grenade. She'd been staring it down when it had gone off about a foot away from her face. It was a miracle she was still… _My face. _The numb slap had turned into a fiery burn that covered the entire top and left side of her face. _Not my face. Take the lungs instead. Anything but my face._

Mina's voice was a smooth contrast to the one running through her mind. "Hey, listen to me. You're just fine, OK? Just fine."

The voice wasn't as reassuring this time around. Ramona's mind drifted back to the knife on her rig. "My face… Do I… Do I still have a face?"

The pause before the response probably wasn't any longer than it had been before, but it seemed to Ramona to take forever for Mina's voice to come through. "Don't be silly. You've still got a face. I just… need to work on it a little bit. I'm going apply some pressure. It's going to hurt. Ready?"

_No. _"…Yes." Mina's warning turned out to be an understatement. The compress she used to cover the wound covered the entire left side of her face, leaving only enough of her nostrils and mouth exposed to let her keep breathing. The same searing burn she'd felt when she'd reached her glove up to her face before now covered her and intensified as Mina applied pressure. Her legs kicked out below her, but she realized she'd stopped shaking. "Stop… Please stop…"

Mina didn't respond. She only pushed harder. Instead, a new hand rubbed her shoulder and a different voice came through. "Just do what she says, alright? She's gonna' help you out. You're doing just fine."

"Cherry?"

"Yeah."

"How… How do I look?"

Ears still ringing, Ramona could hear a faint laugh. "Beautiful as ever. The uniform goes with your eyes, remember?"

"Yeah." Her hand was shaking again. It was better than the rest of her body. "I wish it didn't."

"Hey, you'd totally make anything look good. Just relax and let Mina…" Her voice trailed off. For a few seconds nobody spoke. "Hey Mina," Cherry's voice cut through again. "Should she be that pale?"

"Pale?" There was a shift in the pressure on Ramona's face as Mina moved around. "Hold up a second…" Her hand went down to Ramona's neck.

_Just checking for a pulse. No knife there. Don't freak out again. _

"Let her go." The few hands that were still restraining her lifted. She was free, but her body didn't start shaking again. "Her pulse is way up. She's in shock." There was some more shifting on her face. "She hasn't bled out that much. What's wrong?"

"Uh…" Cherry's hand moved from Ramona's shoulder to her ungloved hand. The fact that it was still bloody didn't seem to bother the girl. "She's got low blood pressure…"

Mina said something, but it Ramona couldn't make it out. She only heard the follow up. "We've got to get her gear off – grab her pack and rig."

Mina lifted Ramona's head along with the compress she still held to it while the hands that had been holding her down lifted her into a sitting position. While her own arms dangled, a pair of hands pulled the straps of her combat pack around her shoulders, and the weight fell from her back. As soon as the pack had been pulled off, another pair of hands unclipped her rig and pulled the vest off of her. Without the huge masses pressing against her she could breathe a bit easier. Mina eased her back to the ground, and the hands set her down gently.

"Place the pack at her feet and rest her legs on it. Keep them elevated. I need to keep pressure on the wound, but you need to go through and loosen anything that looks tight. Her utilities, her belt, the holster on her thigh – anything. Get it unclipped or unzipped." With another round of tugging, everything Mina had asked had been done. The world wasn't as tight around her. "How do you feel, Ramona?" Mina asked. "Hot? Cold? Somewhere in between?"

The air within the shady courtyard was a bit chilly on Ramona's now exposed undershirt. "I'm a bit cold," she said through a dry throat. A moment later she felt her legs shift a bit as someone went through her pack and placed her blanked over her. It wasn't smothering, and it kept the air from cutting through her shirt.

"Is that better?"

"Yeah." Her throat scratched as she spoke. "Thirsty."

"One second." Cherry's hand left Ramona's shoulder.

"Stop. No water." Mina's voice cut down any hope Cherry's had brought.

"What do you mean no water?"

"She's in shock, Cherry. You give her water you'll end up killing her."

"But…"

"It's alright Cherry." The scratch in her throat was getting worse, but it was better than being dead. "You tried."

The next few minutes passed in silence. Still covered, Ramona's face continued to burn under the pressure of Mina's compress. A full two or so minutes after the pain had become unbearable, Mina let off. "I'm going to have to close the wound, but she needs blood. Sort through my pack. Type O." The voices still sounded like they were underwater, but they were also a lot closer now. "You're doing fine, Ramona. We'll get you stable in no time."

Cherry's hand tightened around Ramona's. The grasp Ramona returned was barely able to tighten around the other girl's. She didn't care. For at least the moment she'd be alright. Until she came back to her senses and had to face what had just happened, she'd be good to go. At least Cherry would stick with her. She could do with that.

* * *

"What's the deal?" With the rest of the platoon gathering and checking their equipment and watching over Ramona, Marina pulled Mina and Karl off to the side to get a better idea of what was going on. The firefight had ended abruptly after Ramona had gone down, and she needed to know why. She hadn't seen what had happened herself – she had been just as blind as Ramona.

"Honestly I can't tell you," Karl said while flipping the small metal cylinder he was holding in his hands. One end of the device had been blown apart. Karl himself looked a little more alive. Marina suspected that once she'd set him up doing some technical work he'd regained some of his senses. "Never seen anything like it. My guess would be it's some kind of grenade. Doesn't seem to be meant to kill though. Otherwise…" He glanced over to Ramona lying on her stretcher.

"How's it work?"

"Wish I knew better. Weapons weren't my specialty – We'll have to take it back to Leon or Kris. My best guess would be that they packed it full of ragnite. Probably a pretty compressed payload. Mixed with the right chemicals or metals, it could theoretically make a flash bright enough to temporarily blind someone. The noise would be easy to add as well. I'm not exactly sure how you would weaponize it though. I'll bag it for one of the guys back at base to analyze."

Reaching out, Marina took the explosive from Karl's hands. Turning it over once or twice, she grunted before handing it back. "How come Linton's still blind and we're not. She wasn't the only one who saw one of those things go off."

"Wasn't the flash that did it," Mina said. "Well at least, not the brightness. It went off in her face. The thing probably wasn't meant to kill, but an explosive is still an explosive. It ended up burning her pretty good around the eyes. Not anything major, but she's got some corneal burns as well. That's what caused the blindness."

"Permanent?"

"They're generally not. It'll hurt for a while, but otherwise it'll heal."

"And her cheek?"

"Same," Mina said. Stepping back, she hopped up to sit on one of the walls lining the garden. "She's pretty lucky there, actually. Looks like part of the grenade blew out when it went off and scraped across her face. If it had flown at a different angle, it could have killed her. Luckily she got off with a laceration instead. It's pretty big, but it's not as bad as it looks. I'm more worried about the shock to be honest, but it looks like the worst is over. I'll keep an eye on her."

"Do that." With her weapon leaned against the wall and Catherine's rifle slung around her shoulder, Marina made her way over to the radio she'd taken from Nadine. Excusing the other two with her, she made sure they'd left before she reached for the handset.

A new voice from behind stopped her before she could pick it up. "Finished with them?"

Turning, she found herself face to face with Cezary. "Regard."

"You happen to catch a glimpse of those Imps we were trading blows with?"

_Damn. _He'd seen them too. She'd hoped she was the only one. "What about them?"

"Don't play stupid, Wulfstan. You may be dumb as a sack of bricks when it comes to anything that doesn't have to do with numbers, but I know you've got a pair of eyes on you, and I know that you know how to use them. You know exactly what I'm talking about."

"…The black band on their armor."

"Yeah. That." Stretching his back, Cezary flicked the hair that had fallen in front of his face out of his eyes. He looked edgier than his usual self. "What are we going to do about it?"

"Carry on as normal. We kill Imps. What they paint on their armor doesn't matter."

"As… Normal?" Trying his hardest to imitate her glare, Cezary stared Marina down. "Normal doesn't work here, Wulfstan. Those guys were Imperial Special Forces. They don't play 'normal'. We may be the 7's, but we're still just Militia. I don't know about you, but I certainly don't want to die here."

"Then shoot back."

"Shooting back only gets you so far. If we run into another…"

"We're moving on to our objective. That hasn't changed. Be ready to move. Now if you're done pissing and moaning I'd appreciate it if you left me alone."

Spitting, Cezary turned his back on her and walked away. After he'd moved a good distance away, Marina brought her attention back to the radio's handset. She wasn't looking forward to the call. "7 this is 7-2 – Over."

Within a moment, Largo's voice came through on the other end. ""Roger 7-2, this is 7 – Go ahead."

"From 7-2 – This is Corporal Wulfstan. I'm the new Actual. Over." Exactly the words she hadn't wanted to say.

"7 – What's your status?"

"Status reads: Two KIA – That is Staff Sergeant O'Hara and Lance Corporal Daerden – and one wounded – That is Corporal Linton. Over."

"Roger 7-2 Actual. Status of wounded?"

Dropping the handset for a moment, Marina glanced over to Ramona's stretcher. "Stable, but combat ineffective."

"And the rest of you?"

"Good to go. We've got plenty of ammo and we're almost to the target building. Maybe ten minutes out. I'll radio in again when we get there."

"From 7 – Roger. Stay alert out there; we've got a lot of reports of heavy movement coming in. Don't be doing something and getting yourselves killed."

"Roger 7 – Heading to the target building now. Out." Hanging up the handset, Marina grabbed the Radio and walked back to her equipment. She'd drop it off with Nadine before they left, but she wanted to gather her own equipment first. She was already carrying everything she absolutely needed – her father had taught her to always be prepared – but she couldn't leave her pack lying there. Setting Catherine's rifle down for a moment she grabbed the bag and heaved it around her shoulders. A burden, and not the only one she'd just been chained down with. Carrying plenty of ammunition in her rig, Marina picked up her weapons and set off to ready the rest of her men.

* * *

Next Engagement: The Order of the Splintered Horn


	25. The Order of the Splintered Horn

**Engagement 25: The Order of the Splintered Horn**

"Corner's clear."

"Windows clear."

"All clear."

The flurry of calls reached Karl's ears in quick succession. Without looking himself, he waved the rest of the group over to the corner the platoon had advanced on. The final turn off to the target building would be one block away. One more corner and he'd be brought back together with Lynn. At least, that's what he kept telling himself. The heavy patter of feet and the rustling of gear grew louder as a section's worth of Militia troopers fell in line next to him. While Karl's group had cleared the road ahead, none of them actually moved past the corner. It was best not to move out of the protection it provided until absolutely necessary. For once in his life, though, Karl couldn't wait to turn it. Every moment wasted was a moment Lynn could be bleeding out. He'd turn any number of corners for her – cleared or not. He was afraid of death, but he'd risk it for her any day.

Flanked by Marina, Hannes's section stopped next to him. Without having to carry a casualty they were much more mobile that Karl's group. Looking back, he half heartedly set his eyes on Ramona's stretcher. Carried by Cherry and Cezary, the extra weight had slowed the group down considerably. It would have been difficult to tell who had been injured if he hadn't seen the damage done himself. Nearly her entire face had been covered in bandages, and she was still wrapped in the blanket placed over her to keep her warm. Only the girl's hair served as a giveaway. It was hard for Karl not to imagine the hair tinted a dark, almost bluish black. Shuddering, he had to remind himself that it was Ramona on the stretcher, not Lynn. She was still alright. Had to be alright.

Without a word, Marina patted the shoulder of the grunt on the corner. As the weapons covering the road ahead were lowered, Hannes's section ran into the intersection and began to advance down the street. After the last Militiaman had turned the corner, Karl waved his own group forward. The whole procedure was completed in silence. Impersonal. Almost detached. For the rest of the group it may very well have been impersonal. A mission to be completed. For Karl, it was his entire future. If 1st section had been annihilated he wouldn't have lost a Squad mate or a comrade in arms – he would have lost his wife. He'd been livid when he'd heard that she'd volunteered for the Militia, and he'd give her an earful when they recovered her. For once in their relationship, _she'd _be the one in the doghouse. Somehow Karl wasn't looking forward to it.

Marina stopped the group ahead of them. On the right side of the road there was another low wall running parallel to the street. Karl had begun to dread the sight of those walls. No good had ever come of them. After checking the area beyond it, everyone began to move forward again. Following in step, Karl's group wasn't far behind. Walking next to the wall, Karl took a look beyond it. He had a clear view of the road next to them. Nothing was out of the ordinary. A few broken down buildings here, a pile of rubble there… Everything checked out. No Imperials in sight. The intersection ahead wasn't far off. Soon they'd be within sight of the outpost. The hollow feeling in Karl's stomach grew emptier with every step he took. As long as he hadn't actually seen the place he could keep telling himself that Lynn was OK. When he would actually have to set eyes on the place he'd be forced to acknowledge an objective truth about her. She would be alright or…

Movement. Before the image fully registered, a small Imperial fire team stepped out past the wall on the road across from them. Karl was below the wall before the last Imperial came into sight. By the looks of it, so was the rest of the platoon. The enemy group didn't seem large, but the Gallians didn't want to draw any unnecessary attention to themselves before hitting their objective. Best to let sleeping dogs lie. Ahead of him, Hannes waved for everyone to stay down. Karl was alright with that plan. It meant he wasn't getting shot at.

Behind Karl, the rest of his group waited for the Imperials to pass by. Radio attached to her back, Nadine sat next to Cherry and Cezary, who had placed Ramona's stretcher on the ground in front of them. Still awake, the injured woman clutched onto Cherry's hand at every opportunity the girl's hand was free. Though the full strength of her grip hadn't returned, there were red marks etched into Cherry's ungloved hand where Ramona's nails dug in. Disregarding the scratches, Cherry let her friend hold on as tight as she could manage. For once, neither of them spoke.

After a minute had passed, Nadine edged her head over the wall. The small Imperial group should have passed by, but she had to make sure. Four armored helmets came into her view before a hand grabbed onto her shoulder and pulled her to the ground. "Hey! What the Hell do you think you're doing?"

Looking up, Nadine found herself face to face with Cezary. "I just…"

"What, you want to get your head blown off? Keep it down or lose it. You'd think that would be common sense…"

"I just figured I'd…" She stopped her sentence there. One look at the man told her he was right. Whether it would have actually killed her or not, peeking out was stupid. "Yeah. You're right. I'm sorry."

"Hey, your head doesn't make a difference to me either way. We're already carrying the whore; I just don't want to have to add a radio to the extra weight." Focusing on Nadine, he ignored Cherry's glare.

"Yeah, of course," Nadine said with a nervous laugh. Regardless of motive though, he'd still pulled her back. "I guess that's two I owe you."

"What are you talking about?"

"That time back in Kloden."

"I told you," Cezary said narrowing his eyes. "That was Marina."

"Couldn't have been. She was shot in the calf. They pulled her out before the shot was fired."

"It was Catherine then."

"Yeah," Nadine said rolling her eyes. "It must have been."

"Yeah. Must've." Balling his hand into a fist, Cezary looked down at the handles of the stretcher in front of him. There wasn't anything particularly interesting about them, but they were something other than Nadine to look at. "Darkie bitch."

"Asshole."

Another minute of silence passed before Marina motioned the OK to stand. The Imperials on the other road had passed by without incident. Keeping an eye out for more, the Gallians continued towards the last intersection before they would reach the outpost. As Hannes reached the corner and looked around the corner, Karl's team moved into place behind him. After checking the corner herself, Marina waved him up next to her. "Looks clear," she said as he stepped next to her.

Karl peeked his own head out. The outpost was visible just down the road. It stood at the end of the street in a small square. Another low wall stood at the end of the main road just before the building. Anything beyond was blocked from view by the building itself. "Yeah. At least it looks it." There wasn't any sign of any Imperials out in the open. They'd have to move closer to get a better idea of what was going on.

"We're moving up to that wall. I'll take Hannes's section up first. You take Cherry's behind us. When you get there we're going to move in and clear the building. Once we check it out we'll wave you in. Be ready to pull out if anything goes wrong."

"We'll follow your lead."

Nodding, Marina urged Hannes forward. As his troops left the corner, Cherry's took their place. Moving slowly, the advancing group reached the wall without incident. As they stopped, Karl followed behind. Wherever the group of Imperials that had just passed them a moment ago had come from, the area ahead was peaceful. The calm disturbed Karl. If Lynn were still alive there would have to be a sign of her somewhere. He didn't see anything. Coming up to the wall, Cherry and Cezary set Ramona's stretcher down and raised their rifles. With his sniper rifle slung behind his back, Cezary aimed Ramona's weapon at the building ahead of them. The weapon itself was well maintained – the jam had occurred when a loose clump of dirt found its way into the magazine she'd loaded into the rifle. After the mishap, the platoon had been instructed to make sure their rigs were clear and their magazines were well protected. The iron sights of Ramona's rifle would serve better at close ranges than Cezary's scope.

There was no sign of any Imperials in the area, but there were signs of a battle. Bullet holes covered the buildings and shattered glass littered the streets in front of them. The damage to the structures had been heavy – the front of the outpost had been pocked and torn into, and a small building to the right of the wall looked as if it had been used for target practice. Empty casings were strewn across the ground at their feet. Karl watched as Marina sorted through the piles. "Anything?"

"7.92mm," she said as she tossed one of the shells aside. "Some 9mm's. They're Gallian. Can't tell if they were from 1st section or someone else though."

"So how do we find out?"

"We don't. All we can do is search the area. If they're here, they're here. If not, they're not."

Karl looked into the windows of the surrounding buildings. Nothing. "Oh…"

"We're going in," Marina said. "Keep us covered."

"Yeah…" The Militiamen braced themselves against the wall as the rest of the group moved forward and disappeared into the building ahead. As Marina had said, Lynn would be there or she wouldn't. Karl didn't know what wouldn't would entail, and he didn't want to find out. He couldn't imagine how she would have kept herself hidden within the building without attracting the attention of Imperials though. Taking his eyes off of the outpost, Karl looked back at the building to his right. Whatever had hit it had done a number on it. Hardly a skeleton remained, and rubble and debris covered the street in front of it. He shuddered to think about what kind of damage a weapon that could destroy a building like that would do to a person.

Before he could picture the image in his head, he caught sight of a wave out of the corner of his eye. Turning, he saw Mica waving the rest of the platoon into the building. After helping Cezary and Cherry lift the stretcher over the wall, Karl rushed forward into the outpost. The entryway was completely empty. As Karl stepped through the doorway into the next room, however, he froze. The wall on the other side of the room was full of holes, and the floor was coated with dried blood. Regaining his senses, he stepped forward to let the rest of the group in. Mina and Marina stood in front of the far doorway. "What… happened?" Karl asked as he walked up to them.

"Looks like the door was rigged," Marina said. "S-Mine. Whoever opened the door caught a payload of shrapnel by the looks of it."

"More than just the opener," Mina added. "By the looks of it there's more blood here than one person could have bled out."

Whether he liked it or not, Karl was going to find the truth he was looking for. "Any bodies?"

"No. Nothing. No sign of them."

"Anywhere?"

"We just ran a quick sweep of the building," Marina said. "The place hasn't been thoroughly searched yet. Take Cherry's unit upstairs and look around. We'll cover the first floor."

"Alright," he said reluctantly. He'd gone from wanting to find Lynn to hoping she wasn't anywhere near there in the time span of about half a minute. "We'll check it out." Swallowing, he faced Cherry's section and took a deep breath. "We're heading upstairs. Set Linton down here. Audrey, stay with her. Everyone else, up the stairs."

Setting Ramona down, Cherry pushed her group up to the second floor. Most of the rooms were empty. After walking down a long hallway, however, she came upon a locked door. Checking the hinges, she saw that it opened towards her. They wouldn't be able to kick it in. "Crap…"

"What's the matter?" Hermes asked from behind.

"Door's locked."

"Can you kick it?"

"Nah," she said. "Opens towards us. We'll have to breech."

Hermes groaned. "Man, what I wouldn't give for a battering ram. How come the Army get's all the cool gadgets?"

"Yeah, well," Cherry shrugged. "The Army goes to war with all the necessary equipment, but Militia? We make do. Call up a shotgun. Breaching round."

Within a minute, Elysse was standing next to Cherry and loading a shell into her shotgun. "Got something for me?"

"Totally. You want to get this door open for us?"  
"Oh yeah," she said. "I'll have it down in no time. Step back a bit, yeah?"

Complying, Cherry stepped out of the way and let Elysse walk up to the door. Holding the shotgun at an angle, she aimed the weapon at the latch. The round blasted through the lock before disintegrating, throwing the door open. Stepping out of the way, she let Cherry step through. If there were any Imperials on the other side, Elysse's breaching rounds wouldn't be much use. With her weapon shouldered, Cherry moved into the room. She let the weapon slack as soon as she'd stepped through though. "Oh."

"Oh what?" Karl asked from the other room.

"I've got something here."

"What?"

"Uh…Bags."

Karl's heart stopped. If he looked into a mirror, he had a feeling the man staring back would have much color to him. "Bags?"

"Yeah. Bags," she said again. There was a slight quake to her voice. "Like... Like body bags."

It took Karl a moment to stop his head from spinning. Slowly, he stepped through the door and followed in behind Cherry. Elysse and the rest of the group walked in behind him. Lined up in two neat rows, seven black bags were placed against the walls of the room. They were all full. All of a sudden Karl's legs felt weak. "What… What do we do?" he asked.

"I… Guess we have to check them out. Right?"

Stepping forward, Elysse knelt next to the first bag. Hands shaking, she reached for the zipper. She hesitated before tugging. "I… Don't know."

Cherry tapped her index finger against her rifle's trigger guard and bit her bottom lip. After a moment of thinking, she nodded her head. "We have to know who's in the bags, so…"

"I can't stay here," Karl said. His face was almost completely pale. "I'm going to go find Lynn. Clear the bags, I'll be back when I find her."

Cherry and Elysse watched him walk out. With her stomach in her throat, Cherry turned back to Elysse and twirled her finger. The bag made a sleek zipping sound as she pulled it. When she'd unzipped it half way, Elysse lifted the top and looked inside. A blue uniform was visible through the gap. "Yeah. It's Gallian."

"You know who?"

"…No. Uniform belongs to the Army. This guy's not one of ours."

"Alright," Cherry said with a sigh. The man in the bag was dead, but at least he wasn't a friend. "Police his tags and move on."

Moving from bag to bag, Cherry and Elysse began their sweep of the room. Sending the rest of the section to search out the rest of the floor, they took their time checking the bags. Neither of them wanted to see the bodies, but Elysse refused to leave them unchecked if one of her friends could have been in one, and Cherry refused to leave her alone. They were stuck there until each bag was cleared. Lifting the flap of the fourth bag, Elysse had to pause. "Everything alright?" Cherry asked.

"This uniform looks like one of ours."

Grimacing, Cherry took a deep breath. Waiting wouldn't change the fact that there was still a body in the bag. "Open it."

"I…"

"Please. Just open it."

Turning away, Elysse flipped the bag's cover in one quick sweep. Cherry wished she'd had to foresight to look away as well. Feeling dizzy, she had to turn around and place her hand on the wall for balance. Still, she knew she'd have to turn around eventually. Without the body's dog tags they wouldn't be able to confirm who it was. Cherry had a good idea though. The grayish locks of hair tied off with blue ribbons would have been a dead giveaway if the bottom half of her face hadn't been blown off. It took Cherry a moment to get to the point where she didn't feel like she was going to throw up if she moved. _Just grab the tags and you're free to go. Totally doable. _Gripping tightly to her rifle, she slowly turned around. The bag was already closed.

Clutching onto the dogtags, Elysse sat with her knees pressed against her chest. "They say Nelson," she said.

"Elysse, are you…"

"Yeah," Elysse said. "I can hang."

Stepping forward, Cherry took the tags from Elysse's hands. "Here, I'll hold onto these." Resting her rifle against the wall, she placed the dog tags into her pocket. "You go on. I'll finish up here, alright? You've totally done more than you needed to. I've completely got this covered."

Elysse stood up but she didn't walk towards the door. "No." Instead, she set her eyes on the next bag. "Thanks, but no. These could be my friends. I… I want to know."

"OK. But… Is it OK if I unzip the bags from now on?"

"Yeah. That uh…" Elysse had to stop for a moment before continuing on. "That might be for the best."

A little more slowly, the two continued through the bags. The next two held more Army soldiers. Each of them had been shot through the chest. The last bag held another Militiaman. Removing the top cover, Cherry and Elysse found that the body belonged to Nancy Dufor. With two holes running up her torso and one in her right cheek, she lay face up in the bag. Letting Cherry take care of the tags, Elysse turned away. Though the visible damage wasn't as severe as Edy's, she didn't want to have to look at any more of her friends' bodies. Solemnly, Cherry pulled at the girl's dog tags. As they snapped off, Nancy's head rolled over to the side. Making sure Elysse wasn't looking, Cherry quickly closed the bag and zipped it back shut. Once again she had to pause. The exit wound at the back of the girl's head was big enough for her to have fit her fist through.

Patting Elysse on the shoulder, Cherry stood and picked up her rifle. Together they made their way back downstairs. They found the rest of the platoon waiting for them. As they stepped out of the stairwell, Karl jumped up. Visibly shaking, his eyes pleaded for any news the girls might have. "Don't worry, Karl," Elysse said. "We didn't find her."

"So she's alive?"

"She's not here," Cherry said diplomatically. "We'll totally find her though. I know we will."

"Yeah… Yeah, we will…"

Stepping in between the three, Marina looked the two girls in the eyes. "Who _did _you find?"

Reluctantly, Cherry pulled out the dog tags she collected. "Dufor and Nelson, along with some regulars. They're all still up there."

Glancing over the tags, Marina placed them in her own pocket. "We can't bring them all back. We'll grab ours when we move and leave the regulars for when the Army sweeps through and clears the area." Stepping back, she waved Nadine over to her. "Radio." Un-strapping the equipment, Nadine handed the gear over. While the platoon waited, Marina walked into the next room and picked up the handset. "7, this is 7-2 Actual – We've cleared the target building. Nothing but bodies here. Two of ours: Nelson and Dufor. No sign of the rest of them, over."

Largo's voice cut through the static. "7-2 Actual, this is 7 – If you've cleared the area we're going to need you back here in a hurry. We've got heavy movement coming our way. Make it back here as soon as possible; we're expecting a lot of company this time, over."

"From 7-2 Actual – Roger. We're Oscar Mike. Out." Setting the handset down, she sat back for a moment. Their mission was complete, but they hadn't found what they were looking for. Though disappointing, results were results. Satisfied, she picked up the radio and moved back into the other room. Handing the equipment back to Nadine, she made sure everyone checked their weapons before they left. With Ramona on one stretcher and the two bodies on another, they were set to move. At least, most of them were. Karl was nearly catatonic. Prodding him forward, the platoon began to push out the door.

As the troopers filed out, Nadine stopped at the front of the group. Standing in front of the wall, she turned around to face Marina as the radio on her back squawked. "Wulfstan, someone's on the hook. Sounds like it's…"

The sound of gunfire filled the street, and there was a loud thump as the rounds slammed into Nadine's back. As she hit the ground, the Gallians opened fire. Dropping to a knee, Ted didn't stop firing to call out the targets. "Imps, down the road!"

Ahead of them, a group of Imperials stormed out around the corner and fired on the Gallians who'd stepped out of the building. Their concentrated fire was enough to send the group to the ground. Hitting the ground, Cezary switched out Ramona's rifle for his own. Just above the wall he could see the Imperials swarming into the street. "Hey! Wulfstan!"

"Yeah?"

He tried to get a count of how many Imperials advanced on them. He stopped when he hit fifteen. "We can't take them head on like this. We need to pull back."

Marina dropped her weapon from her shoulder and scanned the advancing group with her naked eyes. "…Yeah." She looked around. There wasn't anywhere they could flank them from. "Fall back! Get back inside!"

As the Militiamen outside began to retreat, those still inside gave them some covering fire. Grabbing Nadine, Hector and Melville half dragged her back into the building. As they set her down, she cried out for help. "Get it off! Get it off!" The radio she'd been carrying was now smoking, and a light sizzling sound came from inside. With her arms flailing though, the two couldn't pull the equipment off of her.

"Dammit, just hold her still." As the two grabbed onto her arms, Cezary pulled out his knife and cut through the straps. The radio fell to the ground, but Nadine didn't stop crying. "And they call me a coward…"

As Hector and Melville let her go, Nadine fell to her knees. "Where am I hit?"

"Relax, Nadine," Hector said. "You're not hit."

"But… My back…"

"Radio," Melville said. "Took the impact. You're cool for cats."

With everyone inside Marina started looking for options. Two came to mind: Hold out in the house or go around out the back door. The back door sounded good. _No such thing as a coward out here._ Before she could push the group out the back door, however, Hermes stepped in front of her. "Wulfstan, they're back there too."

"Back where?"

"Around the other side of the house."

_Fuck. _"How many?"

"…More than we can take head on."

At least that narrowed the options. Hold out in the house. "Cherry, take your section and defend the back of the house. Hannes, you've got the front." As the two units dispersed, Marina looked down at the wreckage of Nadine's radio. The rest of Squad 7 would have its hands full for the time being, but she could still call another Gallian unit for backup. Second Army would be the next closest group, followed by Varrot's own Squad 3. Even if neither group could make it, there were Gallian balloons in the area. Close air support would work just as well. "Clement, Radio."

"Wait… what?"

Ramsey's response didn't put Marina in a good mood. "What do you mean, 'what'? Your radio. Get it over here."

Ramsey hunched her shoulders. "I… Uh…"

Filled with dread, Marina looked at Ramsey's load. Instead of a radio she was carrying a combat pack. "Clement, where's your radio?"

"The… The Staff Sergeant told me to drop it and pack ammo…"

Marina's own shoulders sagged. She took a quick look at the radio on the floor. Smoke still poured out of the three holes that ripped through the mangled machinery. The reports from the battle echoed through the house. Swearing, Marina pulled the bolt back on her weapon. "Make sure you distribute that ammo," she said. "We're going to need it." Stepping over one of the body bags, she left Ramsey behind and began to walk up to the second floor. They'd made one stupid mistake after another. She decided she wasn't going to die for that.

* * *

Next Engagement: The True Believer


	26. The True Believer

**Engagement 26: The True Believer**

From her back she couldn't see where the shooting had come from, or even who had been shooting at who, but that hardly mattered. A firefight meant that Gallians were in the area. Neither Lynn nor Rosina had seen them pass by, but someone had to be out there. Lynn didn't care who they were – Militia or Army, they were friends. A Gallian was a Gallian. Next to her, Rosina had taken cover behind the counter she'd been resting on. Lynn couldn't move, but the fallen support beam and chunks of plaster and stone around it would keep her concealed from the outside. At the back of the room, Susie would be well protected as well. It was just a matter of waiting for the battle outside to resolve itself. The gunfire had stopped, but she could still hear voices calling out from either side. There seemed to be a temporary lull in the fighting, but it didn't seem to be over. Every once in a while a burst of gunfire would break out, either from the street or the outpost, and the exchange would be returned from the other side. A lot of bullets had been exchanged, but it didn't sound like either side had made much progress on the other. For the wounded Gallians it had become a waiting game. By her watch, the last exchange had occurred ten minutes ago.

Carefully, Rosina took a quick look over the counter. With only her eyes above the top she took a moment to take in everything she saw. With a downcast look, she dropped back down and rested her back against the wall. "Still nothing," she said.

"Nothing at all?"

"Nothing. As far as I can tell whoever's in the building is holding the position. Whoever's moving up the street is trying to take it. I don't know who's who or what side is where."

Lynn thought back to the sound of the gunfire. "I know I heard a Mags coming from the left. It was a bit muffled but I'd know that sound anywhere. I'm a bit turned around though. Is that the street side or the building side?"

Rosina lifted above the counter one more time. "Building. Could it have come from the street on the other side though?"

"Possible," Lynn said. "I'd bet it came from inside though. The walls probably muffled the sound a bit, but it still sounded closer than from around the other side."

"So we should assume that we have control of the building?"

"I wouldn't assume anything, but that would be my best guess. Doesn't matter to us right now anyway. Either way we have to wait for the battle to end, and when it's over whoever wins will have the building _and _the road."

"I guess so." Taking a moment, Rosina looked over Lynn's Mags. She wasn't used to carrying the weapon, and it felt awkward in her hands. Still, it was the only weapon they had and she was the only one fit to use it. She was required to qualify with it back in boot, but she had hardly touched one since. "How about you," she said looking up from the weapon in her hands. "Can you hold out that long?"

"I think so," Lynn replied. "I'm more worried about Susie. How's she doing?"

"More or less the same, I think." Shifting a bit, Rosina moved over so she could take a better look at the injured scout. "Bandages seem to be holding. Her knee was pretty bad, but I wrapped it up tight. There wasn't an exit wound on her shoulder so there was only one hole to patch up there. I mean, she doesn't look _great_, but as far as I can tell her condition hasn't changed."

Lynn lifted her head as high as she could. Over her own body she could barely make out the top half of Susie's own body. "No exit wound on the shoulder?"

"Just an entrance. I doubt I'd have been able to do anything about it if the bullet had gone all the way through."

"So… The bullet's still in there?"

"No," Rosina mocked. "It just disappeared. Yeah, it's still in there."

"You didn't touch it, right? Like, try to dig it out or anything?"

"What, do you think I'm retarded or something?" As comforting as it was to know that Rosina hadn't touched the bullet, the fact that her edge had returned put a damper on Lynn's already flagging spirits. "Of course I didn't try to remove it. I just stopped the bleeding as best I could and left everything else as is."

"Good."

"Yeah." Sliding back to the counter, Rosina rested against it. "I'm doing alright myself, in case you were wondering."

Lynn hadn't forgotten about Rosina's head, but since she was the only one who could still move around she wasn't overly concerned about it and hadn't brought it up. "Sorry," she said.

"Hm."

Another burst of gunfire broke out from the street. The building returned fire with a number of short bursts from a heavy weapon – most likely a .30 caliber. A few more cracks from the street sounded off before the exchange ended. There were no calls for medics. Raising her arm, Lynn looked at her watch. 1105. They'd been stuck there for nearly eight hours.

"Hey Lynn," Rosina said next to her. "Is it alright if I ask you something?"

It wasn't like Rosina to ask first. Maybe she hadn't recovered as much as Lynn had suspected. "Shoot."

Rosina let the Mags fall into her lap. "Karl seems like a really nice guy. How'd he go wrong?"

Go wrong. Guess she was doing just fine after all. "You're asking me about Karl?"

"Yeah."

"There's a firefight raging outside, I'm paralyzed, Susie's shot to pieces, you've got a concussion at the very least, and you want to know about Karl?"

"Well would you rather keep talking about how we got bent over? We could do that. 'They really fucked us good this time, didn't they?' Does that sound more like the conversation you want to have?"

Lynn took a look around. The bullet holes in the walls and ceiling stared back at her. "No, I guess it doesn't."

"I didn't think so."

"Well," Lynn sighed, "What exactly do you want to know? I mean, there's really not a whole lot to say."

"What do you mean there's not a whole lot to say. You're a Darcsen. He's not. How did that work out?"

"Oh," Lynn said dejectedly. "How did it work out like _that."_

"Yeah. Like that."

Placing her hands on her stomach, Lynn thought back to when she'd first met Karl. It really hadn't seemed like a big deal to her back then. It still didn't. Apparently some people couldn't stop making a fuss about it though. Rosina seemed genuinely interested, but that interest could go either way. She was a racist. That much was certain. If she went ahead, Karl could be dragged into it as well. Then again, she'd involved him the moment she'd said yes. She decided to start with Fouzen. "We both grew up in Fouzen, ya' know?"

"Childhood friends?"

"No," Lynn said with a quick laugh. "I never knew him growing up. We met later. It's just… Fouzen's a bit different from the rest of Gallia." An image of a burning building flashed through her mind. "Well… at least it was."

"The Darcsen camp?"

"Yeah. That was…"

"Wouldn't have been around when you were growing up."

"Never." Unconciously, Lynn ran the fabric of her uniform through her fingers. "Fouzen's in northern Gallia. I mean… It was never exactly rainbows and butterflies, but the racism wasn't nearly what it was in the south. Plus Fouzen always had a pretty high Darcsen population. It was almost like the Darcsen cultural capital of Gallia. Sure, people outside the city called it a ghetto, but it was home for us. We didn't bother anyone outside, they didn't bother us. It worked out." Another burning building. "At least… It did back then."

"I guess times change."

"Seems so."

Rosina gave her canteen a shake. A light slosh came from within. There wasn't much left. "So if you lived in the ghetto how'd you shack up with Karl?"

"You know how Fouzen's an industrial city, right?"

Rosina nodded. "Yeah. Half our equipment was made there."

" Well, if you live in Fouzen odds are you're working in the factories. If you're Darcsen, you work blue collar. If you're not, odds are you're white collar. Running the factories and such."

"So he was your boss?"

A surge of pain made its way up Lynn's back as she laughed. "No. Hell no. There was no way I was going to work in one of those factories. I'd have starved first. No, I actually worked as a receptionist for the Clerk's Office."

Rosina tilted her head. "Wait, you? A receptionist?"

"Is that odd?"

"No. Not really, I guess. It's just… I never really took you for the receptionist type."

"Well," Lynn said from on her back. "I guess times change."

"Seems so."

"So anyway," Lynn continued, "since Karl isn't a Darcsen he was on the fast track to running a factory. He graduated from Fouzen Technical School and got set up with a job as a junior foreman at one of the industrial plants. They made ball bearings."

"So what, he wooed you with his vast knowledge of industrial production?"

Lynn let out a nervous laugh. "Ehh… We'll get to that later."

"Wait," Rosina said incredulously. "He did, didn't he?"

"That's…"

"He wooed you… With ball bearings."

"Can I just finish the damn story?"

"Yeah. Yeah, go ahead. It's just… Ball bearings…"

"Yeah, dry. I know." Taking a deep breath, Lynn tried to gather her thoughts. After a moment she exhaled. "OK, so Karl's getting this new job, right? Well, his friends want to celebrate, so they decide to throw him a big party. Just something for fun."

"I bet that went well for Karl," Rosina scoffed.

"No, it really didn't," Lynn admitted. "That's later though. Before I get there I have to tell you about—"

A burst of gunfire outside cut her short. The sound of small arms fire rang through the air, and the yells of the advancing soldiers cut through the silence between shots. After a few minutes of fighting, the advancing troops fell back. The sound of their weapons receded as they ran. "Sounds pretty nasty out there," Rosina said without looking over the counter.

"Yeah. This might not be over as quickly as we originally thought."

"How long's it been since the first outburst?"

Lynn lifted her arm and checked her watch. "About an hour and ten minutes."

"We've got plenty of time then."

That was her cue to go on. "Karl's party. Right. I didn't know Karl, but apparently we had a mutual friend. A guy named Hoffer. He worked at the Clerk's Office with me and went to school with Karl growing up. I had just broken up with my boyfriend at the time, and Hoffer thought it would do me some good to get out. Told me he was throwing a party for a buddy of his and that I should go along."

"I bet he regretted that later."

Lynn couldn't tell whether the comment had been serious or a joke. She realized it was probably a little bit of both. After a moment of deliberation, she decided to ignore it and continue on. "I really didn't get to go to parties very often. You know, living in the ghetto and all. We had get togethers and stuff like that, but actually calling them parties would be a bit of a stretch."

"So you jumped at the chance to go to a real party."

"I wouldn't go so far as to say 'jumped'," Lynn said, "But yeah. I needed to get out anyway. Since the breakup my life had been work, home, work, home, on and on and on. A party would be a nice break."

"I can see that. Get out. Drink your worries away. Get laid. Forget it all the next day."

Lynn rolled her eyes. "Uh, no. Not like that."

"Yeah," Rosina laughed. "I didn't think so."

"Well then don't say so."

"I was just joking, Lynn. C'mon."

"It wasn't funny."

"What's your problem?" Rosina asked taken aback. "You've always seemed to be able to take a joke before."

"This one wasn't funny."

A wry smile spread across Rosina's face. "Oh my God. You did, didn't you?"

"Did what?"

"Slept with him. Karl."

"No," Lynn said disgusted. "Don't be vulgar."

"Vulgar? Hell, Lynn. We're both adults here. It's really not a big deal if–"

"I said I didn't sleep with him at the party," Lynn cut in. "That's not why I went and that's not what happened. Now do you want to hear the rest or not?"

The surprise hadn't left Rosina's face, and she sat pressed back against the wall as if Lynn would physically strike her. "Fine. I didn't mean anything by it. Just go on."

Lynn didn't smoke, but if she had she figured she'd have gone through a month's rations worth of cigarettes in the past eight hours alone. She really hadn't been overly offended by Rosina's jest, and if it had come at a different time or from a different mouth she may even have laughed. It hadn't, and she didn't. "My family was never exactly rich," she said swallowing her anger, "but we were decently well off considering the circumstances. I had a nice dress. Nothing too fancy, but nice enough for what was going on, so I figured, 'Alright. This guy's starting his career. I should be presentable.'"

"Wasn't that kind of party?"

"Oh no, it was. It's just… You remember when I said Fouzen was a bit different from other cities?"

"Yeah."

"I also said it wasn't perfect."

"Oh," Rosina said, finally starting to relax again. "People see a Darcsen done up all nice and they start to wonder what's going on. Even in Fouzen."

Lynn gave a quick grunt of affirmation. "The uh… The bar everyone was meeting at had a bit of a reputation back in the ghetto. Of course, the people who planned the outing didn't know I was coming, so they didn't think twice about it. Fouzen had been desegregated for about ten years at this point, but old feelings die slowly. The particular bar we were meeting at had been hit pretty hard by protesters during the civil rights movement. Sit-ins, picketing… the works. They held a grudge. Fouzen was desegregated, but there were some places you just didn't go."

"That bar was one of them."

"Yeah."

"But you still went."

"Stupidly," Lynn said laughing, "but yeah. I walk in and the place goes completely silent. Everyone. They just turned and stared." Still smiling, Lynn brought her hand up to her forehead. "I'll never forget his face. Hoffer's. I walked through the door and this huge grin spread across his face. I don't think he thought I was going to go. So he's got this stupid grin going until he notices everyone else is just horrified, and that grin melted away. He didn't need to say anything; the look on his face said it all. Just this perfect, 'Oh shit, what have I just done?' look, ya' know?"

"Oh yeah," Rosina said, stopping her laughter only long enough to get the words out and take a breath. "I know the look."

"Yep. I hated his guts so much right then. I know I probably shouldn't have, knowing better, but I wasn't going to admit that. I gave him Hell for it later."

"What did you do then?"

"Walked up to Karl's table and said congratulations. Hoffer was too petrified to introduce me himself, so I had to do it. That was about the most awkward moment of my life."

"I believe it," Rosina said. "How'd Karl take it?"

Lynn chuckled. "You know Karl."

"That bad?"

"Oh, he was terrified. Not of me, mind you, but of all the eyes staring at his party now that I'd walked up and shaken his hand."

"So what'd he do?"

"He said, 'Thanks for coming,' and dropped me into an open seat." Remembering the scene, the bullet holes in the wall's surrounding Lynn became less oppressive. They almost reminded her of the eyes in the bar. Somehow it was a pleasant memory.

"Karl? Our Karl?"

"Almost hard to believe, isn't it? Sure, he gets a bit flustered when the shooting starts, but he's not a coward."

"Guess he's got balls so long as the enemy doesn't have bullets."

"Something like that." The comment hadn't put her off.

Debating for a moment, Rosina finally decided to take a drink from the almost empty canteen. There was still a faint slosh when she screwed the top back on. "I'm guessing that didn't solve things though."

"No," Lynn said. "It really only takes one person to get things moving. Just about as soon as I sat down someone from across the room started yelling. 'Who the F let that darkie bitch in here?' Something stupid like that. Of course, that got other people going. The usual stuff, you know? 'Get that darkie slut out of here,' and 'Get your lynching ropes.' Crap like that. That scared everyone at the party, because of course now they were 'darkie lovers'. If a mob really did form up they wouldn't be spared either."

"And did it?"

"It turned into a hornet's nest," Lynn said matter-of-factly. "We ended up getting driven out, or at least we left before it came to that. It was too late for me to just excuse myself – his party had already been incriminated. So we booked it."

Rosina laughed again. "That sounds more like the Karl I know."

For a moment Lynn thought about jumping to Karl's defense. After a couple of seconds worth of thought though, she decided that objectively that really _did _sound like the Karl Rosina knew. People's true colors seemed to tarnish between the bullets. For an instant she wondered what Rosina would really be like if she dropped her shotgun. "Anyone would have run from that crowd. It was a mess. But that didn't really change the fact that I'd just ruined my future fiancé's party."

"So was he pissed?"

"Nah. His friends were though. We didn't really have anywhere else to go for the time being, and most of the people there were spooked. Can't really blame them."

"Where'd you end up going?"

"We ended up at a friend's place." She stopped to think for a moment, but gave up. "Can't remember whose apartment it was. Never really knew him. Doesn't matter, I guess. I just wanted to go home, but since that would have been a complete waste they insisted I went along. That I owed it to Karl for screwing everything up."

"And did you feel that you owed it to him?"

"To be honest, no," Lynn admitted. "I just wanted to go home. Anyway, I think he felt the same way himself. You've seen him when the Squad goes out, yeah?"

"Of course. He clings to you like a leech."

"I uh… Wouldn't say 'leech'" Lynn said carefully, "but yeah. He came up, and I think he wanted to apologize or something for some reason or another – like it was his fault – but… He went all Karl on me."

"He froze."

"He froze. It took him a good couple of minutes to psyche himself up. Finally he started talking. It's just… I don't know. I think he was really nervous. Not of me, but because of how horrible everything had just gone, and since he couldn't really think of anything to say he started talking about stuff he knew."

"…Ball bearings."

Lynn slowly slid her hands down her face. "For two hours. You know how many things you can do with ball bearings?"

"Should I care?"

"No."

Shaking her head, Rosina chuckled as she picked the Mags off of her lap and rested it against the counter in front of her. Hands now free, she folded them on her lap. "I'm still not seeing how that worked. I mean, you don't sound much more excited about ball bearings than I'm imagining you would."

Lynn thought for a moment. "Honestly I really wasn't paying too much attention to what he was saying," she said after a moment's pause. "Since he was talking to me the whole time people figured the party was off and left. That just made him more nervous, so he started to repeat himself. I think I heard the same conversation twice, actually."

"And you're still marrying him?"

"Like I said, I really wasn't paying too much attention to what he was actually saying. It was more the fact that he was saying anything at all. Even the people who weren't racist would probably kick me to the street if I'd messed up their night like that. Instead, he wanted to talk. For two hours. About ball bearings."

"That's… Probably about the least romantic story I've ever heard."

"Yeah, well," Lynn said, "You asked to hear it."

"No, I'm not saying that's a bad thing. I'm just saying."

"Noted."

Without picking up Lynn's Mags, Rosina took a quick peek over the counter. The road was empty. "So he asked for your number and you started dating?"

"Uh, no," Lynn laughed. "He got it off of Hoffer. He didn't actually ask me himself."

"Yeah. That sounds like Karl." Settling back down, Rosina closed her eyes in thought. "I'm not really sure how I feel about that."

"In hindsight he should have asked me himself, yeah, but I really don't mind. I mean, we _are _getting married."

"No," Rosina said cautiously. "I mean… You know. The whole mixed marriage thing."

Lynn lifted her head and looked over at Rosina. "That I'm a Darcsen and he's not."

"Yeah. I mean, I'm glad you're both happy and all, but… I don't know."

Dropping her head, Lynn stared at the ceiling. "Whatever."

"You know I almost reported you guys once," Rosina continued. "Back in Barrious."

"What?"

"Yeah. That night you guys disappeared for a couple of hours. I almost reported you to the Captain for going AWOL."

Lynn's head was back off of the floor before AWOL had left Rosina's mouth. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said nervously.

"I already said we're both adults. You guys are getting married. It's not like nobody–"

"I said I don't know what you're talking about."

"Alright, fine. Nothing happened. I still almost reported you."

Lynn bit her lower lip. "And why didn't you?"

"Wavy stopped me," Rosina replied. "Maybe he was looking out for you because you're both Darcsen. Maybe it was because he's married himself. Don't know which, don't care. You're lucky he stepped in."

Wavy. Rosina never talked back to Wavy, and when he'd asked her not to report them she'd listened. He was a Darcsen. Lynn debated for a moment whether or not she should bring it up. In the end, she decided that she might not get another chance. "Hey Rosina?"

"Yeah?"

Take it with tact? No. Rosina had already made her stance on Darcsens clear. Beating around the bush wouldn't change anything here. "You treat us Darcsens like shit, but you listen to everything Wavy tells you. What did he do?"

Rosina stared at Rosie in disbelief. "What did he… Do?"

"Yeah. I mean… You hate us Darcsens. You go out of your way to call me weak, but you don't say a thing to him."

"Of course I don't! He's our section leader."

"Wait… That's… That's it?"

Rosina threw her hands up in the air in front of her. "Well what did you expect?"

"I…" Rosina looked angrier than Lynn had ever seen her. "I just thought he'd done something to earn your respect."

"He's a Darcsen, Lynn. You think I follow his orders because I like him? I follow his orders because I'm a grunt."

"So you don't like him."

Rosina opened her mouth to speak, but stopped herself before she blurted anything out. "How honest do you want me to be," she said after thinking ahead.

"We're both adults here," Lynn mocked.

"I hate him," she said bluntly. "He's a Darcsen. Weak. I listen to him because it's my duty."

"So you hate him because he's a Darcsen."

"Yes."

"So then… You hate me."

Rosina took a deep breath. "It's nothing personal Lynn."

"What the Hell do you mean it's nothing personal?" Her back kept her from jumping up, but Lynn jerked her head as far as she her body would let her.

"I'm just saying it's not your fault."

"So you hate me… But not because of anything I did."

"Look Lynn. You Darcsen are just weaker than we are. That's the way things are. People get killed out here, and the enemy doesn't take pity on weakness. Neither do we."

Tears of frustration started forming in Lynn's eyes. Balling her hands into fists, she had to concentrate to keep her breath steady. "You're sick."

"_I'm _sick?" Rosina yelled back. "I'm not the one who tried to order my fire team to leave the rest of my unit behind. _That's _sick."

"Well maybe if you'd actually followed that order – as was your _duty _– we wouldn't be stranded here now."

The emphasis Lynn had put on the word "duty" turned Rosina a light red. "And maybe if you were stronger we could have saved them."

"You're kidding me. I saved your life. You'd be dead now if it weren't for me."

Picking up the Mags, Rosina laughed. The sound only made her seem angrier. "It's a _war_, Lynn. Everyone's saved someone's life at one point or another. So what, do I _owe _you for it? You want me to go back and preach about how we're all equal now that you've saved me? We're not."

"I can't believe you."

Lynn's words brought a twisted smile to Rosina's face. "If I'd had my lifting buddies from back home with me here instead of you, we'd not only have saved the rest of the section, but we'd have taken the outpost too. I guarantee that."

"There's nothing you could have done, even with–" Lifting buddies. Lynn almost groaned at how stupid it was now that she'd finally put it together. Her laugh almost sounded like a sob. "You don't give a damn about Darcsens, do you?"

"No, I don't. Have you been listening at all to what I've been saying?"

"No," Lynn said shaking her head, "I mean you couldn't care less about hating Darcsens in specific. It doesn't matter who you hate so long as you and your lifting buddies have someone to push your crap on other than yourselves."

"Wrong. We hate you because you're weak."

"You hate us because it makes you feel better about yourself. I don't think it's a coincidence that you hate us 'darkies' because 'we're weak' when you're out at the gym lifting five days a week. I'll bet it could have been anyone. People with green eyes or big noses… You just picked a group and ran with it."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Rosina said gripping tightly to the weapon in her hands.

"I think I know better than you." Building momentum, Lynn wiped her arm across her face. A smudge of dirt smeared across the bridge of her nose. "You have a cruddy life so you compensate by finding someone to blame it on. You don't care who. Neither do your lifting buddies. You just need someone to rag on while you're all jerking each other off over how much better you are than–"

Lifting the Mags, Rosina slammed the weapon's butt into the counter next to her. The crash sent a quick chill through Lynn's shoulders and stopped her in her tracks. "Listen darkie, don't talk about things you don't know anything about. It makes you look stupid and ignorant."

"Oh yeah," Lynn said, "because _I'm _ignorant."

Sighing deeply, Rosina lowered the weapon back onto her lap. She dropped her head and mussed her hair before softening her voice and continuing on. "If it's any consolation, I really do appreciate what you did for me."

The tears began to form up in Lynn's eyes again. "Consolation…" For a good two minutes the two sat in silence. Only Susie's labored breathing continued to cut through the air. Lynn clenched and unclenched her fists. Staring at the ceiling, she watched as a speck of dust floated from one bullet hole to another. It was lost from sight as it passed through what little sunlight the room had to offer. "You know," she said finally breaking the silence, "I always thought that if I could prove that us Darcsens were more than what everyone made us out to be – that we could be strong – I… I always thought people would listen. I guess that's pretty stupid in hindsight. I mean, how many people tried before me, right? But still… I thought that if I could prove myself that people would forget about me being a Darcsen and finally accept me for what I'd done instead of reject me for what I was."

Rosina dropped her eyes. "I don't think it works that way."

"Yeah. I guess not."

"So what are you going to do now?"

"I don't know," Lynn admitted. "What I'm doing now isn't working. I'll have to scrap that. I think the only thing I can do is to think of something new. Who knows." Stopping, she took a look around the room. "I've got plenty of time, at least."

"Yeah," Rosina said with a smirk. "That you do." Folding her arms, Rosina rested the back of her head against the wall. The rest of their time in the ruined building was going to be awkward at best. Still, she was glad the two could be honest with each other. Still slightly light headed, she dropped her head down onto her shoulder. On the way down, she caught a glimpse of Lynn's face. The distressed look worried her. "Hey, how are you doing? Your leg bothering you at all?"

"Hm?"

"That look on your face. Are you still OK?"

"Oh, that," Lynn said nervously. "Yeah, I'm good."

"Then what's with that look? It just looks… Uncomfortable."

"Uh… Yeah. I uh…" Lynn paused to lick her lips. "I have to pee."

Surprised, Rosina had to search for words. "You have to… Pee?"

"Yeah."

Rosina's gaze scanned the woman on the floor. They'd been trapped there for eight hours. She should have figured they'd be confronted with this eventually. Her eyes moved over Lynn's canteen and down to her leg. "Well, you're not moving."

"Yeah," Lynn said, locking eyes with Rosina. "I know."

Slowly, the two began to smile. They broke out into laughter as a new wave of gunfire erupted outside in the streets.

* * *

Next Engagement: The Waiting


	27. The Waiting

**Engagement 27: The Waiting**

There was some terrifying experience about firing the .30 that a rifle just didn't give. It was easy enough to kill with a rifle. A single well placed 7.62 could kill a man just as easily as a wall of un-aimed fire. One shot. There was a thrill to that, too. The snipers lived for that thrill. They would never experience the wall though. With a twitch of a finger, 550 rounds per minute shot from the machinegun and sailed through the air towards the Imperials on the street below. The bullets could tear through their armor like it wasn't even there. At least four rounds could connect before the Imp fell to the ground. The thundering sound of the barking weapon would be the last thing the poor sap heard before his buddies sent him home in a box. Rifles could be used for hunting. A .30's only job was killing. The weapon was a machine designed to deal death, and they'd put it in the hands of a 16 year old girl. In a sick way, it was… Totally cool.

"Two more coming up!" Cherry's words were barely audible over the sound of the machinegun she'd supported on the windowsill. It was hard to tell if Nadine had heard the words, and she wasn't standing more than a few feet away. It was almost certain that Ted hadn't heard her from across the room. He had his hands full firing his own rifle anyway. Nadine only nodded and continued feeding the long belt of ammunition through the feed of Cherry's gun. The young girl had never understood the thrill Wendy got when she pulled the weapon out until she tried it herself. It was the best thing since _Gallian Girl _published their May skirt issue. Cherry didn't think she'd be taping pictures of .30 caliber weapons on her bedroom wall anytime soon, but the experience would stick, that's for sure.

The two Imperial's she'd called out leapfrogged down the street ahead of them and moved to join up with the four who'd ran down before them. While the street itself was wide open, there was enough rubble and intact cover on the sides of the road to give the advancing soldiers ample cover to sustain small unit assaults. They wouldn't be able to take the building with what they were sending, but they could certainly harass the defending Gallians. The Imperials could resupply at any time. Surrounded, the defenders didn't have that option. Sooner or later the Imps would get lucky. If they could kill one or two of the Gallians at a time they'd whittle them down until they could manage a full assault. If their ammo lasted that long, that is.

In front of the weapon, a spray of fragments flew up through the window as a bullet struck the building below the frame. The pieces of building struck the crew in the face. Cherry ducked her head slightly as the debris flew past her. Nadine just continued to feed the machinegun. "They're getting closer," she said.

"Yeah…" Cherry's head was only down for a moment before she was back on the weapon's sights. The shell casings flew out in bursts, landing on the floor and clinking against the cartridges that came before them before rolling to a stop. It would be nearly impossible to walk across the room to Ted's position at the next window without stepping on them. "I think they're hitting the next room over harder." Hermes and Melville.

"You think?"

"Yeah." After a few more bursts from the .30 the end of the belt began to near the weapon. Watching, Cherry could see the tracers slam into and around the cover the Imperials were using for their advance. She didn't see any strike armor. "I've got this one, grab another belt."

Nadine turned towards the ammo box on the ground and pulled out the belt of ammunition. "Are you sure we can afford to go through another?"

Cherry didn't answer right away. It took all of her focus to keep the weapon steady in the window frame. The recoil jarred her arms, and she could only fire off a few quick bursts before she had to pause to steady the gun. "Yeah, we can do one more," she said as she popped off the last round. "We're empty!" she called over to the other room. "Reloading!"

If Hermes and Melville hadn't heard her original call, they would have heard Ted's relaying of it. Even if they'd heard both it never hurt to be sure. Keeping the .30 steady, Cherry lifted the top cover as Nadine got the fresh belt sorted and ready for loading. The gun was hot – she'd been firing it on and off for the past hour plus. The thrill still hadn't faded.

"Alright, here we go." With the belt held neatly in her hands, Nadine placed the first round in the tray. Before she could secure it in place there was a sharp crack. It was followed by two more, and three round holes tore into the wall behind them.

Cherry was dropping below the window before Nadine could finish loading. "Incoming! Through the window!" The gun needed to be up. Raising her hand, she slammed it down on the .30's top cover. It didn't secure shut.

"Ow! Shoot!" Nadine pulled her hand out of the weapon and cradled it against her stomach. She didn't have to see it to know that a dark splotch was already forming under her gloves where the cover had crushed her finger.

"Ach, sorry!" Without pausing for long, Cherry hit the top cover again. It shut this time. Standing back up, she steadied the weapon in the window frame. "Feed me." She pulled the trigger, and the weapon jumped back into life. The first casings from the new belt flew through the air. After a moment, the awkward weight of the belt threw her off. "Nadine, feed me."

"My hand…"

"Feed me!"

Taking her eyes off of her hand, Nadine looked to the long belt of ammunition. It shouldn't just be hanging there. "Oh!" Grabbing it, she stood back up herself and lifted the belt. "Got it!"

Outside, she could see the Imperials already starting their retreat. One by one, Cherry's weapon chewed through the rounds as the armored soldiers outside ran. More bullets tore into the outside of the building around them as the Imps covered their retreat. The .30 had gone through a quarter of the new belt before Cherry let off the trigger for the last time. Next to them, Ted's rifle rang out three more times before he too lowered his weapon. With a sigh, he stepped back and slumped down against the far wall. Pounding his fist against the wall next to him, he called out to the grunts next door. "You guys doing OK?"

"All clear, Ted my man."

Ted smiled at Melvilles voice. "Damn. I was kind of hoping you'd bite it. More spotlight for me."

Shaking her head, Cherry set the machine gun down on the ground below the window. It weighed a little more than a pound per caliber, and her arms were starting to feel it. After wiping the sweat off of her forehead she looked down at her hand. It always shook after combat, but there was a marked difference between the shakes after fighting with her rifle and fighting with the .30. Looking at her own hand reminded her of Nadine's. She'd gotten jumpy, and the other woman had paid the price for it. Totally lame. "Hey, Nadine? How's your finger?"

"I'll live," she said. Sure enough, the bruise was already forming. "Just a bit bent out of shape is all. Nothing major."

Leaning over, Cherry looked over the damage. "Just a bit bent out of shape? That looks like it could be broken."

"Does it?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Oh."

"I'm like, really sorry about that. I just kind of freaked." Feeling the heat rising into her face, Cherry started to clear the area around the window of shell casings. They littered the entire floor of the room, and it wouldn't do to slip on a couple in the middle of a firefight.

Nadine shrugged. "Happens." She wasn't exactly thrilled about the situation, but there wasn't much she could do about it.

"Mm." Cherry's ponytail flew through the air as she swung her head in Ted's direction. "Hey Teddy, how are you on ammo?"

"Seven full mags. Two half empty," he said looking into his rig. "I'm set for another round or three.

"Cool." Cupping her hands over her mouth, Cherry called into the next room. "Hey! You guys need ammo in there?"

There was a slight pause. "We could use a box of the 7.62's."

"Coming right up fellas!" Cherry turned back to Nadine. "Go drop off some rounds for the guys next door and then head downstairs for a rest. If you get a chance have Mina check that finger out."

"Huh? I'm fine," Nadine said. "Really, it's no big deal."

"Nah, really. Go on. You've had me covered for the past hour. Take a break and send someone else up to feed."

"You sure?"

"Totally."

Grabbing her pack, Nadine pulled out a box of rifle rounds. "I'll have someone up for you in just a minute."

"Cool." Stepping away, Nadine made her way to the door. "Oh hey, Nadine?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm really sorry about your hand."

The hand stung. Bad. If Cherry hadn't freaked out and gotten careless, her finger wouldn't have been broken. For a moment Nadine looked the girl in the eyes. Something about the girl's face had changed. Her eyes seemed bigger. Her half smile younger. That stupid thing with her hair stupider. It was impossible to be mad at that. "Yeah, alright. It's no big deal." There was no way that could have been the same girl who'd been working the machinegun a moment ago.

Walking down the hallway, Nadine stopped in front of the room next door and pushed on the door. "Ammo?"

"Yeah, right here," Hermes said.

"Alright. Here you guys go." Extending her arm, Nadine passed the box of ammunition to Melville. The room looked very similar to the one she'd just left. Littered with shell casings and covered with bullet holes. "Seems you guys took quite a lot of fire a second ago."

"It's Young's hair," Hermes said, jerking his thumb in Melvilles direction. "I mean, who _wouldn't _want to shoot that?"

Melville jerked a finger of his own. It wasn't his thumb. Nadine felt it would be best to leave the two to their business. Excusing herself, she stepped out of the room and walked down the stairway to the first floor. Most of the Gallians were covering the windows on either side of the house. The stairway led into a main common room at the center of the building. There were no windows there. It was large and mostly empty, minus a long table standing in the middle of the room and an occupied stretcher in the back corner. And one fit for duty Gallian Militiaman. "Herbert, what are you doing here?"

"Wait, Herbert's here?" The voice came from the stretcher. Ramona was awake.

The engineer looked at Nadine with wide eyes. "I was just… checking up on stuff."

Nadine cocked her head "What kind of stuff?"

"You know," he said shiftily. "Making sure the aid station is secure."

"Herbert, there aren't any windows or doors leading outside here. You should be with a group covering one of those."

Shuffling his feet, Herbert seemed to debate the idea in his head. "I'd rather just make sure everything is safe here."

"How about instead you go upstairs and help Stijnen man the .30?" Nadine asked taking another step towards the man.

"Uh…" He was frantically looking for an excuse. After a minute of mumbling, his eyes lit up. "Stijnen's in charge of 4th section right now. I'm in 3rd."

"So?"

"So I can't do it."

Nadine rolled her eyes. "Do you know how to feed an ammunition belt?"

"Yes."

"Does it matter who's doing the shooting?"

"Not really."

"Cherry asked for someone to help her. You're free. Go do it."

"But she's not–"

"Well I am," Ramona said from the stretcher. "Stop slacking off and get up there."

"I really don't feel like–"

"Now."

Before Herbert could respond, Nadine grabbed him by the back of his uniform and pushed him towards the stairs. Grumbling, he took one last look back before resigning himself to his fate. Setting her pack down in the corner, Nadine shook her head. "Can you believe that kid?"

A faint laugh came from the stretcher. "Someone _really _needs to hit him one of these times. Like, _really _hard."

"I wouldn't go _that _far," Nadine said with a slight smile, "but he needs to buck up." Looking down she could see that the bruise on her finger was spreading. She was starting to think it was broken herself. Mina didn't seem to be in the room though, so she'd have to wait to get it checked out. "How are you doing?" she asked instead.

Ramona's arm slid across her stomach. The blanket still covered her, and only her shoulders and above were exposed. The undershirt cut off halfway above her elbows, and her bare forearm was still covered in blood. "I've felt much better than this before."

"Ragnaid wearing off?"

She shook her head. "Haven't gotten any. Something about blood pressure or something. I don't know. Science was never my thing."

"Yeah, me neither." Looking down, Nadine could see that there wasn't much of the woman's face that wasn't covered by the bandages. It didn't look comfortable. "Mina knows what she's doing though," she assured. "If she says no Ragnaid then there's probably a good reason."

"Yeah. Probably."

A few moments passed in silence. Then a few more. It didn't seem like there was going to be much of a conversation. That was alright with Nadine. She had other things to occupy her time. Her finger was bent out of shape, but she could still write. Reaching into her pocket she pulled out her pencil. Pulling her pack closer to her, she reached into the bag and pulled out… nothing. Her book was gone. Tearing everything out of the pack, she double and triple checked to make sure it wasn't tucked away. It wasn't. _Where did I put it? _It took her a moment to remember. She'd lent it out to the snipers. "Hey Linton," she said uneasily, "Have you seen where my book went?"

"Hm?"

"My book. I lent it out to you earlier today. Do you know where it is?"

"Oh, that. Yeah. It's in my pack."

Nadine gave a sigh of relief. "_Your _pack?"

"Yeah," she said. "I figured it wouldn't be a good idea to let Cezary keep it. He's a good Militiaman, but you know how he can be."

"Oh yeah, I know." Grabbing Ramona's pack, Nadine began searching for her book. It was right at the top. "You didn't look through it, right?"

Ramona shifted uncomfortably under the blanket. "Um…"

"Oh no," Nadine gasped. "I didn't mean…"

"No," Ramona said. "It's cool. Really." Her lips pursed for a moment. "I didn't look through it before I got hit, if that's what you want to know."

"I didn't doubt it." Grabbing her pencil, Nadine flipped to the first clean page. She was almost through this book. She'd have to pick up another when they were pulled off the line.

"Hey," Ramona said before Nadine could put her pencil to the paper, "What is it, anyway?"

"You mean the book?"

"Yeah. Like a journal or something?"

"No," Nadine laughed. "Not exactly. It's a… A book."

"Yeah but… The pages were empty."

"Well, that's the point."

Ramona was left speechless for a moment. "I don't get it."

It was Nadine's turn to be left speechless. "What's not to get?"

"The pages. They were empty."

"Well, yeah. I hadn't written them yet."

"Wait a second." Ramona shifted her head ever so slightly. "You mean you're writing it? A book?"

"Yeah. I've got a master's in literature. Figured I might as well try my own hand at writing a bit."

"That's… Actually kind of cool."

"Really?" Of all the ways she expected Ramona to describe it, "cool" wasn't one of them. "Thanks. So you read a lot?" Though it wasn't a full, hysterical laugh, Ramona sounded off louder than she had before. She went on for a full twenty seconds or so before stopping. "I'm guessing that's a no," Nadine said disappointed.

"Yeah, that's a no."

"I guess nobody's perfect."

Sliding her hand down, Ramona stroked the fabric of the blanket with her thumb. "Can you tell me what it's about? Your book?"

"Oh, I don't know," Nadine said. Ramona wouldn't be able to see her turn red, but that didn't make it any less embarrassing. "It's not finished yet."

"So? I assume you at least know what you're writing about, right?"

"Well, yeah, but–"

"So?"

Nadine wondered if this was what Herbert felt like every time he needed to come up with an excuse to get out of work. "I don't want anyone taking the idea, you know?"

"And you really think _I'm _going to write a book?"

Taking a moment, Nadine looked Ramona over. In her mind she ran through the memory of the woman without the bandages. "Good point," she said. After a moment she added, "No offense."

Lifting her arm, Ramona waved the comment off. "So? What's it about?"

"Well," Nadine started, "It's a romance. A man who's racist against Darcsens goes off to fight in a war, but he's injured and loses his memories. When he returns home he falls in love with a Darcsen woman. There's more to it than that, but that's the general gist."

"Racist loses his memories and finds love, eh? Based on personal experience?"

"What?" Nadine said taken aback. "No," she laughed. "God no. I'm already spoken for."

"You're married? Really? You never said anything about that."

"Nobody ever asked."

"You'll have to tell me about it."

"Yeah, alright," Nadine said. "Not here though. Once Mina gets you all fixed up I'll show you some pictures. That sound good?"

"I'll… Look forward to it." Nadine gave a happy nod. She realized after the fact that the blind woman wouldn't have seen it. She opened her mouth to say something, but Ramona beat her to it. "Could you… Read some of your book to me?"

"No."

The suddenness of the response sent a shock through her. "Oh. Alright then."

Silently, Nadine cursed herself. She hadn't meant to sound blunt. "I thought you didn't read."

"I don't."

"But you want to hear my story?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

There was another long pause before Ramona gave her response. Her thumb stopped stroking the blanket. "I never really read. Just not my thing. But when I was a kid my dad would always read something to me when I was sick. I just… Always felt a bit better after."

Lying on the stretcher, Nadine had to admit the woman was a pretty pathetic sight. What little skin was visible outside the bandages, blanket, dirt, and blood was still a shade paler than its normal tone. It was hard to tell, but she looked like she was quaking. "You're scared?"

"…Yeah."

Nadine sighed. "Alright," she said with a smile. "I guess I'll have an audience someday anyway, right?" She didn't get a response, but she knew Ramona was still listening. Dropping her pencil, she flipped through her book and turned to the first page.

* * *

It was a rifle. A _real _rifle. It wasn't hers, but that was alright. She hadn't used one since Barious, and she was so desperate to fire something that wasn't a second rate piece of scrap that she didn't care who's rifle she used. Sitting at a desk in a second floor room, Marina aimed down the scope of Catherine's rifle and searched the area ahead for a target. Most of the enemies were smart enough to stay down, but every once in a while one would feel the need to run across a clearing and provide her with a juicy target. She'd been occupied before, but the next one to step out wasn't going to be as lucky as his predecessors. The window she aimed through was on the back of the building. There was a large square in front of her, but from her position at the far end of the room she could only see a small portion of it. There wasn't much in her scope except for empty space.

Marina didn't have to wait long. A glint caught her eye, and from the sun's reflection on the soldier's chestplate the sniper was able to zero in on her target. He'd be perfect. In a fluid motion she squeezed the trigger, and the barrel of Catherine's rifle exploded. The bullet ripped into the man's lower stomach. He wouldn't be getting back up on his own power.

"You're getting sloppy, Wulfstan." From the doorway, Cezary had watched the shot through his own scope. "That's not a kill."

"Not yet, at least," she said as she worked the rifle's bolt. The shell made a tinkling sound as it struck the floor. Marina wondered if the man's armor made the same noise.

"Here," he said moving into the room. "Let me–"

"No. Leave him."

Cezary looked at the man through the scope, then back to Marina. "You're not going to finish the job?" She didn't answer. Cezary shrugged. Looking back into the scope of his rifle, he could see the man's arms moving. "Just going to wait for him to bleed? That could take time." She still didn't answer. Again, Cezary dropped his eyes from his scope. "Of all the ways to go, I think the stomach is probably one of–"

"There."

Cezary's eyes just made it to the scope as Catherine's rifle shot off a second time. A second body fell next to the first, this one with a hole square in the chest. The new body didn't move. The first still flailed. "You're baiting." For the second time, Marina's only response was to slide the rifle's bolt. "I'm impressed," Cezary admitted, "But not surprised. I mean, that's cold."

"No such thing."

"That's even colder." For that, she spared a sideways glance. It wasn't a glare, but it didn't look welcoming. "Anyway," he said, resting his rifle on the desk, "I just figured I'd come to check up on you, seeing as nobody's seen you since we got here."

"I'm doing just fine for myself, thanks."

Slipping into an open chair, Cezary laughed. "I didn't come to check up on you because I care about _you. _I came to remind you that you're supposed to be leading. You know. Giving orders. Showing your face every once in a while."

"I already said we hold out here until relief comes."

"And what if it never does?"

This time she pulled her whole head away from the scope. "What do you mean?"

"I mean if the Imps win and we end up stranded. Help might not be coming. We can't hold out here forever. We've only got so much ammo. There has to be a plan B, and you've got to give it to us."

She thought for a moment before returning to the scope. "Plan B, huh?"

"Actually if you want to get technical we've already gone through plan B. He's lying on a stretcher with a bum back. Plan A is dead, and Plan C's short a face. You want to know the difference between Plans A through C and Plan D?"

"What?"

"They actually led."

Marina's eyes squinted before she returned to the scope in front of her. "Whatever."

"Alright, look," Cezary said throwing his hands into the air in frustration. "I've already got a backup plan. You just need to deliver it."

"What's it matter who delivers it?"

"It matters because you're supposed to be the one leading," Cezary insisted. "While I know you're worthless, you need the rest of the platoon to think you've got your shit together. Even when you don't. Especially when you don't."

The view in her scope hadn't changed. One dead Imp, one wounded. Nothing else. "What's your plan?"

"We used this building as an outpost. All of the radio equipment is still here."

"We already tried that," Marina said. "It didn't work the first six times, it won't work now."

"It will if we fix it. The equipment itself is fine. They were using a wire for the signal. The Imps cut it when they first took the place."

"So we fix the wire and call for support."

"That's the plan."

With her hand, Marina brushed a strand of bangs out from in front of her aiming eye. "You know where the wire is?"

"Yes. It's well hidden, but it's on the road we came in on. Front of the building."

"Can you see where it's cut?"

"Yeah." Pausing, Cezary took a deep breath. "It's down the street. A ways."

"Figures."

"Look Wulfstan, that's all we've got for now. If push comes to shove, we're going to need to be able to call help, and fixing that connection is the only chance we've got of that."

"I'll think about it."

"Alright. Just keep it–"

"We're done here."

Cezary stared her down before he got up. Her eye never left the scope. Grabbing his rifle from off the desk, he left the room but kept the door open behind him. The open space in the wall burned through Marina's back. Anyone could walk in uninvited now. Slowly, she scanned the square for any more suits of armor. Nothing. Catherine's rifle blasted a third time. The wounded man's arms stopped flailing.

* * *

Next Engagement: Reverence


	28. Reverence

**Engagement 28: Reverence**

Setting Catherine's rifle down in the corner of the second story room she'd been using as a nest, Marina paused for a moment to look the weapon over. She may not have cared about whose weapon she fired, but she did care about whose weapon she inherited. Catherine had been in command of the platoon since before the war broke out, and now she was dead. The leader who'd always known what to do and how to do it was gone, and her rifle was passed on to a lowly corporal who'd never wanted the job in the first place. Unfortunately, whether she knew what to do with it or not the rifle was hers, and there was nothing she could say or do to change that.

Tearing her gaze away from the rifle, Marina scanned the floor of the room. Six new shells littered the floor around the three she'd expended killing the two Imperials earlier in the day. What hurt almost as much as looking at Catherine's rifle in the corner or the three shells from before was knowing that for the six cartridges next to them there was a grand total of zero enemy combatants added to the body count. With her boot, Marina nudged one of the casings at her feet and watched as it rolled across the room in a large semicircle. Branded for a kill or damned for a miss. Kicking the rest of the shells across the room, she listened to the brass objects clink as they struck the walls. When all of them came to a stop she couldn't tell which of them had been a miss and which had struck its target. At this point it shouldn't have mattered anyway. Probably never had in the first place.

With the shells taken care of Marina turned back towards Catherine's rifle. In a way it was only fitting that she was the one who ended up picking up the older woman's weapon. The other snipers seemed to keep a nonchalant attitude about their work. It was easy for Cezary, seeing as the man didn't give a shit about anything other than himself. The Bielert twins were a wonder though – Emile especially. Squad 7 may have had one of the heaviest casualty rates so far in the war, but they'd dished out more than their fair share of kills in trade, and since she'd put her rifle down Marina was sure that Emile had begun to catch up with her body count if he hadn't passed it already. The kid knew how to work a rifle, and the job never seemed to bother him. Oscar probably had a lot to do with that. Marina imagined that fighting would be easier to bear with family close by. She wished them the best.

Catherine herself was different though. Being the most experienced shooter of the bunch, the Staff Sergeant had carried a weight about her when she didn't have her rifle shouldered and aimed downfield. For a job she'd held on and off for the past twenty years she didn't seem to get much enjoyment out of it, and for a woman who didn't seem to enjoy what she was doing she did everything she could possibly do to make sure she did a damn good job of it. Her work was finished now, but her rifle's wasn't. The rifle could still kill, and so could the woman carrying it. Catherine would probably roll over in her grave if she could ever have found out whose hands it was in, though. While O'Hara had never vocalized any distaste, Marina was pretty sure that if the woman had made a list of people she genuinely liked and respected within the Squad she'd find her name pretty close to the bottom. Catherine's whole schtik was about watching her buddies' backs. Taking care of her friends. Marina had made it more than clear that she didn't have any. She didn't need friends to be able to pull a trigger, and as far as she was concerned that was all her job description had required – at least until Barious.

Now she stood alone in a second floor room of a shot up building in a city she never cared about in the first place staring at a dead woman's rifle with a platoon of grunts depending on her to lead. People. Every one of them happy being dependent on someone. On her. Nobody could stand up and do something for themselves. "Fuck it all."

"That you, Wulfstan?" There was a knock on the door, and a moment later it swung open to reveal Karl poking his head around the edge of the frame. He gave a quick sigh of relief as his eyes found the sniper standing near the entrance. "Thought I heard you. I've been looking for you."

"Yeah, well," she said turning away from the weapon in the corner, "I guess you found me."

"I guess so." Stepping into the room, Karl noticed the gun. Everyone seemed to have taken a hit at Catherine's death, but he was glad the weapon in front of him wasn't a Mags. "Is that her rifle?" Marina didn't answer. "I guess it has to be," he continued. "I almost thought she'd be in command for the rest of the war. I mean, she survived the first one, right? For some reason I thought that gave her a pass here. That she couldn't—"

"What do you need, Landzaat?"

Karl's own gaze was taken from the rifle. Looking away quickly he instinctively balled his hands into fists. "Oh, right. I just wanted to let you know that we've only got about an hour's worth of light left. Just in case that changed anything."

Marina looked down at her watch. "That late already?"

"Yeah." The disappointment on Karl's face was clear. They'd hoped to have been relieved by then. Maybe more importantly, he'd hoped to have found Lynn. Neither had happened. "I'll… I'll go tell everyone to hold tight. The Squad might just have gotten held up. I'll make sure everyone knows to hold tight."

"Wait," Marina said before Karl had disappeared around the frame of the door. For a long second she stood with one hand on her hip and the other on her forehead. _This is ridiculous. _Pulling her hand away from her eyes she took a long look at the shells on the floor before focusing back on Catherine's rifle in the corner. Nobody was coming to save them. They'd have to do it themselves. "Gather the platoon. Leave Stijnen and the .30 to cover the front of the building along with Clement. Keep Kissinger and Howard in the back. I want everyone else assembled in the common room in five."

"Sure thing."

"Also, tell Regard I want to talk to him. He knows where I am."

"Anything else?"

Marina shook her head. That was Karl's cue to leave. The woman was glad she'd been able to block his way too far into the room. As he walked out, she turned towards the desk she'd been using to support Catherine's rifle. Picking up the colorful piece of paper that lay on it, Marina held it up in front of her. For a moment the casings on the floor seemed less empty and the weapon in the corner less burdensome. She almost smiled, but another knock on the door cut that emotion short. "Heard you were looking for me."

Quickly folding the paper, Marina shoved it into her breast pocket before turning to face the voice. "Unfortunately."

"Unfortunately for you or unfortunately for me?"

"How sure are you that we can fix the equipment here?" she asked, ignoring the quip.

"As I've said, the equipment itself is fine." Once again, Cezary stepped into the room and dropped himself into an open chair. "At least, that's what the engineers said. If we fix the wire, we solve the problem."

"How sure?"

"Positive."

Moving over him, Marina placed one hand on the arm of Cezary's chair and glared down. "I don't want bullshit, Regard. How sure are you?"

Breaking eye contact, Cezary licked his lips. "50/50," he admitted. "It either works or it doesn't."

"That's not how statistics work."

"Fine. I don't know. We can fix the break here, but if there's another cut further up the line there's not much we can do about it."

"And it won't work?"

Cezary shook his head. "No."

Stepping back, Marina ran her fingers through her hair. She got a full view of the room before her bangs fell back in front of her eyes. "How many people are going to know that?" she asked.

"Probably anyone trained in radio operations," Cezary said shifting in the seat. "That's at least Clement and Nadine."

"Clement will be upstairs with Stijnen and Nadine won't bitch. Anyone else?"

"Well… I was able to figure it out, right?"

"So the radio operators and anyone who stops to think it through?"

Cezary laughed. "Well, not _anyone. _I mean, you were mulling it over almost all day and it never occurred to you. Then again, there aren't any numbers involved here so I'm really not surprised."

"Alright." Again, she ignored his insults. "It's our only option. We'll have to lay it down like it's a guarantee and hope it sticks."

"Uh… No," Cezary said as he stood up and trust a finger into Marina's chest rig. The impact made her sway. "_You're _going to have to lay it down. I'm just a Private. You're filling a Staff Sergeant's boots, and the only living person here with seniority over you is down for the count. Unless you want her to lay it down. See how well _that _sticks."

"I can do it just fine by myself."

"I hope so." Grabbing his own rifle from off of the desk, Cezary began making his way to the door. "You have everything down, right?"

"I know the plan." Why was everyone so irritating? Cezary was a dick, that was for sure, but the thought of having to go downstairs and deal with the rest of the platoon turned her stomach over. Things were so much easier when she didn't have to hold everyone's hand. She couldn't take much more. "Hey," Marina said, stopping Cezary just outside of the doorframe. "Do you…" She had to swallow before she could finish the sentence. "Do you have any gum?"

Looking her in the face, Cezary laughed before shaking his head no. "You know I tried myself once," he said after regaining his composure.

"How'd that work out for you?"

"It didn't."

Marina was left alone again as Cezary stepped out of sight. The solitude didn't comfort her this time. Instead, the empty casings on the floor seemed to glitter in the sunlight that poured in through the windows. One way or another they were going to fight, and one way or another she was going to have to lead them. Marina stared down at the rifle in the corner of the room. The rifle stared back. Shaking her head, she picked up her own gun and walked through the doorway, leaving Catherine's weapon behind.

Walking into the first floor common room Marina could see that she was the last one there. Thirteen sets of eyes watched her as she stepped into the room and moved towards the back wall. At least she wouldn't have to wait for any stragglers. When she had everyone in front of her, she set her weapon down and rested her now free hand on the grip of the handgun at her thigh. Might as well get this over with. "We can't wait any longer," she said bluntly.

For what seemed like a minute the assembly in front of her just stared back. From behind her bangs, Marina felt their eyes cut into her – every one of them focused on every movement the woman made. Steadying her hand on the handgun, she had to make sure they couldn't see it shake. Just when she thought they were going to stare her down forever, one of the Gallians spoke up. "What exactly do we want to do?" Mica asked. "It's not like we can just walk out. Unless we surrender – not that that would be a bad idea…"

"No, we're not surrendering," Marina said. "We can't break through on our own, so we need a way to make help come to us. The sun is setting in about an hour. If the Imps are smart they'll hit us in force in the changing light."

Swinging his shoulder, Hannes readjusted the Mags strapped to him. "That's not much time. We can kill a lot of them, but I don't know about calling help."

"It shouldn't be too difficult. The radio equipment here still works. We just need to fix the wire they were using to make their connection. Any engineer should be able to do it. Fix it up and we're good to go. We'll try to call in the rest of the Squad or whoever's closest and see what we can do about getting a balloon or two overhead. Everyone else just needs to hold off the assault while the engineer works."

"Um… Hold off all of them?" With her head lowered, Audrey had to glance up to keep her eyes on the sniper at the wall.

"Yeah. Is that a problem?" Since when did 'hold off the assault' mean it was alright to let some of them through? Every moment wasted explaining such obvious things was like a shot in the gut. Just standing up there was like being stabbed.

In her long, drawn out voice, Elysse mumbled a low string of words. When she'd finished, the look on her face wasn't very encouraging. "They have a Leopard out there…"

"And?"

Elysse and Audrey shared a sideways glance. "We're not equipped to deal with heavy tanks," Audrey said.

Marina rolled her eyes. It was unlikely anyone else had seen it behind her bangs. "So slow it down."

"We can't hold it for long."

"You shouldn't have to as long as the engineer gets the job done right." Glancing over, Marina took a quick look at Cezary in the other corner of the room. He was probably thinking the same thing she was. It had better work. Elysse and Audrey didn't look too happy with the response either, but that was as good as Marina could think up at the moment. Unfortunately, the girls were young and relatively new as replacements. They didn't realize the damage their misgivings had done to the rest of the platoon's confidence.

"I'll keep it held back," Hector said confidently. His tone raised a head or two, but nobody seemed particularly happy about the situation.

Nodding, Marina figured it would be best to move on before everyone got hung up on the tank. "Then that just leaves the wire. Most of the enemy forces are around the back of the building, so we'll keep the heavy fighting out there. The wire is cut out front though. We'll keep a fireteam up front along with a sniper to cover the worker."

Nadine shifted uncomfortably next to Ramona's stretcher. "The person working on the wire is going to be exposed then?"

"It's the only way to fix the wire. The cut is a little ways down the street, but as long as the fireteam and sniper give adequate covering fire the engineer doing the work should be fine."

"Alright," Nadine said closing her eyes. "Can I volunteer for that?"

Marina sighed in relief. Nadine was sure to know the risk involved and the possibility that the plan would fail. Having her support was just short of a blessing. "You've got it. Make sure you've got all of your gear ready and—"

"Hold up," Mina interrupted. Walking over, the medic grabbed Nadine's hand and examined her finger. "Can you even work the tools?"

"Why wouldn't she be able to?"

"Her finger's broken. Got smashed in the .30."

"I'm fine," Nadine said pulling her hand away. "I've still got nine other working fingers. I can still—"

"No." Marina didn't want anyone who might have trouble handling the wire going anywhere near it. That excluded Nadine. Of course things couldn't have been that easy. Not when she had to rely on someone else. "As long as you can still shoot I want you firing, but I don't want you trying to mess with your tools and end up screwing everything up."

"But I…"

"Don't argue."

Nadine dropped her head. "Yes sir…"

That left the other three engineers in the room – Karl, Claudia, and Herbert. For a moment Marina hoped that one of them would volunteer. She wasn't surprised when none of them jumped at the opportunity. That left it up to her. Taking a deep breath, Marina tried to think things through. The eyes dug through her mind and killed any thought that even thought of trying to do something productive. _Focus. _Karl was acting Platoon Sergeant. Pulling him out of the fight would kick Cherry up to the position. There was no way Marina was going to consciously put that stupid bitch in any real position of power. Claudia tried the hard… The eyes cut through her again. They seemed to scan every inch of her body in the silence of the room as she weighed the options. _Distracted… _Claudia tried the hardest, but she was also the newest replacement among the engineers. Every project she touched still seemed to fall apart. Who knew what would happen if she tried to fix that wire. She was out. That left… "Nielson. Pack your gear. Make sure you've got everything you need to solder it back together. Your rifle will slow you down, so take Linton's handgun with…" Marina's voice trailed off. Through her bangs she could see that Herbert wasn't looking at her. He sat with his head down and his hands on his lap. He didn't seem to be overly concerned about what she was telling him. "Nielson?" The man didn't look up. "Herbert, are you listening to me?"

"No."

Marina shifted her bangs away from her right eye. With the hair out of the way she could clearly see the engineer. He still sat as if nothing was out of the ordinary. "No as in 'no, I'm not listening to you'?"

"No," he said. "No as in 'I'm not doing it.'"

Marina didn't have to take her eyes off of the engineer to know that everyone was watching. She hated large groups of people blabbering, but their silence unnerved her. Nobody had ever spoken back to O'Hara. When she'd given an order the only words she ever got back were 'yes' and 'sir', and even when she wasn't around those speaking would refer to her as 'ma'am'. If Marina didn't set a precedent from the get-go the only titles she'd ever be referred to as in the near future would start with a 'b' and a 'c'. It was probably already too late for that, but she at least needed people to follow orders when she dealt them. "Stand up."

"No."

"Stand up, Nielson."

"No."

Pushing herself off of the wall, Marina walked over to where Herbert was sitting. Taking her hand off of the handgun, she grabbed him by the scruff of his uniform and pulled him up. "We don't have time for this. Grab your gear and get ready to go."

Now standing, Herbert sagged his shoulders. "I told you, I'm not going to do it."

A weak voice came from the far wall. "Herbert, she gave an order," Ramona said. "Follow it."

The engineer didn't bother to look. "Last I heard you were relieved."

"Just do it, Herbert. We need this done."

"I'd rather not."

Ramona tried to say something else, but Marina's voice drown her out. "Nielson, if you don't do this we're not going to last the night. We don't have the ammo or man power. Now pack your shit and get out there."

Herbert stirred for a moment before settling back into his catatonic stance. "Get somebody else to do it."

Getting somebody else to do the job sounded like the greatest idea in the world. Marina looked around the room. As she suspected, the eyes hadn't moved off of her. So many people watching. All she wanted was her little second floor room. She wouldn't mind the shells' company anymore. Even Catherine's rifle would be more welcoming than the blank stares greeting her down here. At that moment she knew she couldn't go back on her decision. She was supposed to lead, and she wasn't going to let some lazy punk grab her by the balls. "If you don't pull yourself together and say, 'yes sir, I'll fix your wire' in the next second and a half I'll take this to the Captain, and I'll personally make sure you're court-martialed."

For a second, Herbert looked like he was about to move. Instead, he merely lifted his head slightly. "Good. I hope I am. It's better than being killed out there and having to work all the time."

"I'm not kidding around, Nielson."

"Neither am I. I don't want to be here. Your plan won't work anyway. We'll all just be shot trying. We should just surrender. I'll bet POWs don't have to work so hard. We could just sit in our cells all day."

"Maybe he's right." Turning towards the voice, Marina saw Mica stepping forward slightly. "I mean… There are a lot of Imperials out there. We don't even know if people are still around to come even if we can fix the radios."

Marina stared in disbelief. They were supposed to have done what she told them. Now two of them were questioning her. To her face. Before she could tear into them, Claudia spoke up. "I guess being a prisoner is better than dying, right?"

"Woah," Ramona said from the floor. "Being a prisoner is totally not cool. I'm not dealing with that. Herbert, please. Just do it."

"I already said no. I'm not changing my mind. Nobody here knows what they're doing anyway. We've gone through three platoon leaders in the past day. I'm tired of this."

Almost frantically, Marina searched around the room for someone who could help. It was impossible to read Ramona's face behind the bandages. Karl was frozen stiff. Cezary was smiling. Goddamn smiling. There wouldn't be any help there. Once again she was left alone. For a moment she was terrified, but then that moment passed. She was alone. Free to do it her way. If Herbert wouldn't comply she'd lose any respect as a leader she'd ever managed to accumulate. Catherine's methods weren't working for her. Maybe Daerden's would. "Herbert," she said, slowly turning her head back towards the man. As she met his gaze her bangs slid back across her face. "I'm ordering you one last time. Gather your equipment and get ready to go."

This time he shook his head. It almost seemed as if the effort visibly strained him. "No."

Marina nodded and dropped her head. "Alright." Wiping her hand across her mouth, she let out a long breath before nodding again. Bringing the hand back down to the grip of her handgun, she drew the weapon and jammed it into the engineer's shoulder. Ignoring the series of gasps that came from the once silent majority of the room, she used her other hand to grab the man by his opposite shoulder. "I'm not going to keep asking."

Lazily, Herbert looked down at the gun pressed against him. For a long moment he took it in before looking back up. "You're not going to scare me," he said.

Marina didn't answer.

"You can take me back and have me court-martialed if you want, but I'm done with this war." Seeing movement, Herbert's eyes were drawn to Marina's thumb as she hit the weapon's safety catch and put her finger on the trigger. If he'd been willing to expend the energy, he would have laughed. "I'm not going."

"Herbert, she'll do it," Mica called out. "That Imperial. She killed that Imperial too."

Marina didn't look. "Shut up Hawkins."

"No. She really did. That man on the roof."

"I said shut up."

"She told him she'd give him some Ragnaid, and when he told her what she wanted to know she slit his throat."

Along with a squeal, Marina could see movement from Ramona's stretcher as the woman hugged her shoulders. While Mina didn't squeal or cringe, her reaction didn't seem too welcoming either. "Hawkins, shut the fuck up!"

Herbert gave forth the effort to let out a slight chuckle. "Why do you always say that?" he asked. "It doesn't make you sound tough. You just sound ignorant."

Marina jabbed the barrel of the gun further into Herbert's shoulder. The eyes were unbearable now, and the sooner the man obeyed the sooner she could get away. "If I have to sound ignorant to get the job done then I will. But I _will _get the job done. And you're going to help me."

"I already told you to get someone else. I don't want to be here."

"What," Marina balked. "You think I want to be here? You think I don't want to go home? I do, but I can't. At least not until this war ends, and it's not going to end until we do something about it. I don't want to be here and I don't want Catherine's job, but it's been handed to me and I'm not going to cop out of it. If you don't fix that wire a lot of people are going to die here, and I'm not going to let that happen."

"Fine. But you're going to have to fix it yourself, because I don't feel like doing it, and from the sound of things nobody else fit enough to do it really wants to either."

_Goddammit, Daerden. _"I'm not saying it again." Her palm was sweaty over the grip of the gun.

"You already said that," Herbert said with a yawn. "If you don't surrender and we end up making it back I'll go along with that court-martial thing. I doubt we'll get there though. I mean, you clearly don't know how to deal with people, let alone lead them, and even if you fix that cut in the wire you don't know if it'll save us. If it's broken there then there's no telling where els—"

With a bang the gun jumped in Marina's hand. A second later the expended shell tinkled as it struck the hard floor of the room. Herbert's eyes widened, but the reaction didn't bring any concern with it. Staring at the gun with a look that could have said nothing other than 'she wasn't kidding', he stumbled back before falling to the ground. Marina's own eyes didn't follow him. Instead they stared at the blank spot on the wall that his outline had blocked just moments before. _Uh… _She hadn't expected it to actually go that far. Subconsciously, she knew that if Daerden could have known what had just happened he'd be laughing his ass off. _What now?_

Stammering, Ramona clung tighter to her shoulders. "That was a gunshot," she managed. "What happened?"

Without moving her head Marina glanced to her side. Twelve pairs of eyes darted back and forth across the room, their line of vision raping everything they covered.

Nobody who'd watched the exchange was left able to speak. Only the blind woman in the corner rattled on. "Please… What happened?"

Marina had to continue on with the plan, but with so many people staring and the noise the woman was making she couldn't concentrate. Put a stop to that first. "Linton, be quiet."

"I heard a gun. Why did I hear a gun?"

"Just be quiet for a moment, I need to think."

"I need to know what happened."

Closing her eyes, Marina tried to concentrate. Her head was pounding, and every voice that came through was like putting a drill to her head. "Somebody shut her up."

Nobody moved. Desperately, Ramona's voice came in short bursts. "What the fuck just happened?"

The last outpouring was the last she could possibly tolerate and still remain in the room. "Anybody, shut the bitch up!" Quickly, Audrey sprung to her feet. That would take care of that. Now she needed an engineer. At this point she didn't care who it was as long as he or she could work a set of tools. She settled on the first body she laid eyes on. "Landzaat. You're going. Have your gear ready."

Karl stared at the handgun that was still in the sniper's grip. "I…"

"He'll do it," Cezary cut in. Lifting his rifle, he stepped next to the quaking engineer. "I'll make sure of that."

Marina nodded. "Good. Everyone else, you've got 45 minutes to prepare. Make sure you're ready. Get going."

Nobody waited around. Within seconds the last of the platoon had filed out of the room. The only people left were those who couldn't walk out themselves, Marina, and the medic. Stepping over to the unconscious Herbert, Mina pulled out her kit. "Was that really necessary?"

Marina looked at the empty casing on the ground. There was only one this time. _Probably not. _"Yeah."

Mina glared. "Well I certainly hope so."

"He'll live."

"I know," Mina said, "but I've only got so much equipment in my med-kit, and I don't like it going to waste."

Realizing she was still holding the weapon, Marina slid the handgun back into its holster. When she pulled her hand away from the grip she realized it was still shaking. _That's new…_ "Just patch him up as best you can with what you can spare. It shouldn't take much anyway. If I didn't know he'd fainted I'd think he was sleeping."

"Yeah, well he's not sleeping."

"Yeah." A hollow pit began to form in her stomach. Glancing back at the shell on the floor she felt it widen. "You've got all of your supplies ready, right?"

"All that I've got left, at least," Mina said with a frown. "Yes."

"Good." She had to get out of that room. "I…" In the corner she could see Ramona curled up in a ball. Every so often she heard a sniffle. Swallowing, she turned away from the medic in front of her. "I'll be back. Just uh…" Scrunching her eyes, Marina took a deep breath. "Make sure they're alright."

Walking across the room, Marina looked for the closest door nobody had exited through. Any one of them would do. She didn't care where it led as long as it didn't lead to people. Reaching her unsteady hand into her pocket she searched for a last stick of gum. She already knew she wouldn't find any. Gum wouldn't do the job this time anyway. Opening the nearest door, Marina stepped out of the room, closed it behind her, and threw up all over the bathroom's tile floor.

* * *

Next Engagement: State of Love and Trust


	29. State of Love and Trust 1

**Engagement 29: State of Love and Trust (1)**

The thin layers of cloth peeled away, but no light came through after they were gone. Instead, the removal of the bandages had only irritated the skin under them, leaving the already burnt skin underneath inflamed. Ramona couldn't see damage done by the grenade, but she could certainly feel it. By some miracle – or so she'd thought at the time – she had been able to conceal her blood pressure problems through recruitment. Somehow she'd been within acceptable limits when she was given her physical. Either that or the military physicians knew what was coming better than she did and they were just looking for bodies to fill boots. After all, they'd let Coby back in. By all 'normal' standards he shouldn't be in a uniform either. Who'd be willing to pass up on an otherwise capable volunteer? For whatever reason, she'd made it through and was given her rifle. If she'd known that her blood pressure could preclude her from being given Ragnaid she might have had some second thoughts about joining up. Or not. She was never supposed to get hit anyway.

With a light blowing of air the band around Ramona's arm began to deflate, releasing its tight grip around her. She'd been through the test thousands of times, but she'd never been as nervous about its results as she was then. "So?"

There was a snap as Mina unbuckled the band, and the cuff fell away from Ramona's arm. "Well," the medic said, "you're still a bit low by normal standards, but I think it's about as good as we're going to get."

"And that means?"

Mina set the sphygmomanometer back in her kit and pulled out a syrette. "It's not ideal, but I don't _think_ a little is going to kill you. Are you alright with that?"

Ramona almost laughed in relief. The sharp sting that still raked her face preempted that. "Yeah," she said instead. "I'm way alright with that." At that point she wouldn't have protested to a full dose. If it killed her, at least she wouldn't feel anymore, and feeling nothing was at least better than feeling nothing but pain.

"Alright then." After readying the syrette, Mina plunged it into Ramona's arm and let some of the Ragnaid flow in. "I'm sure you're fine, it's just nice to get consent."

"Yeah…" The pain began to fade as the Ragnaid worked. Within a few moments the intense burning and itching that covered her face dulled to a bearable sting. The difference between before and after was almost enough to make her forget the pain completely. Unfortunately, that freed her mind to think about other things. _Catherine… _

More specifically, Coby. The old man had turned into a little boy the moment he'd asked Ramona to take care of the woman. He'd _personally _asked her. Whether the task was fair or not didn't matter. He'd asked her and she'd failed. Ramona hadn't had time to think about it until she'd been placed in the corner of the room, but since then it hadn't left her mind. She wouldn't even be able to look at the man when her vision returned. "How's Herbert doing?" she asked, trying to wipe the old man from her mind.

"He's doing alright," Mina said as she continued to pack her equipment. "Granted, he's been shot, but he'll live."

"Good." She'd said earlier that she'd wanted someone to hit him. She never actually expected anyone to do it. Knowing Marina though, it shouldn't have come as a surprise. As far out of line as Herbert had stepped, nobody had actually wanted to see him shot – by a Gallian, no less. Ramona was glad he'd be alright. She was still a bit worried about herself. "What…" Her voice faltered a bit before she found enough force to get the sentence out. "What exactly is the damage?"

"He's hit in the shoulder," Mina said. "I've patched him up and stopped the bleeding, so he should be alright until we can pull him out. It would have been trouble if I hadn't been around to help him, but Herbert's going to be fine."

"No, I mean…" Would this sound self centered? Probably. "I mean to me."

"Oh." The shuffling sound of the medic sorting through her pack ceased. "As I said you're going to be alright. Your vision should return over the next few days and I don't think you're looking at any permanent hearing loss."

Once more Ramona shook her head. "No. I mean…" Instead of finishing, she waved her hand in front of her face.

"How's it going to look?"

"Yeah."

"Um, well…" Turning away from her med kit, Mina sat back. "The burns will fade. They'll probably be red for the next couple of weeks. I stitched up the laceration on your cheek. Those stitches are also going to have to stay for a little while. I'll be able to remove them when the wound scars up though, so you'll only have to bear them for a little while."

"Excusez-moi?" Ramona wasn't sure she'd heard right. "Scar?"

Mina tried to muster the most comforting voice she could. "You got cut pretty deep. I mean, it could have killed you if you'd been a couple of inches over. Wounds like that usually leave something."

"You mean like… Permanently?"

"Scars generally are." For a moment it didn't seem as if Ramona was going to react. Her eyes were already beet red from the burns. It wasn't until a tear rolled down the girl's cheek that Mina realized her attempt to soften the blow had failed. "It could be a cute scar though," she said as cheerfully as possible.

"A cute scar?"

"Yeah. There are cute scars. I think."

Groaning, Ramona dropped her head below her shoulders. "Why couldn't it have just killed me instead?" she mumbled.

"What was that?"

Closing her eyes, Ramona raised her head back towards the direction of Mina's voice. "Nothing. Just… Dress me up in white. I don't want to be seen like this."

Mina paused a moment before she reached back for her kit. "Hey, look," she started as she pulled out a fresh roll of bandages. "I'm going to make sure everything works out, OK? I'll make sure you get the best care possible."

"Sure…"

Unwinding the roll, Mina began to dress the woman's wounds. The cloth wound around her head until the burns around her eyes were completely covered. Finishing the job, the medic applied a large bandage to Ramona's slashed cheek. "There. All done." Mina checked to make sure that the bandages would hold. Everything that had been damaged was covered, and the wrappings were the only indication that her patient had been injured. It had been a good job. As much pride as she took in the job, Mina had to admit that she wished she didn't get as much practice as she did. "Is there anything else you need?"

Ramona shook her head. Letting her back rest against the wall, she bent her knees until they were level with her chin. Once again Coby's words flashed through her mind. She'd already failed Catherine, but she wasn't dead yet herself. She could still fulfill the other half of his word. The idea of attempting sent chills down her spine. Something compelled her forward though. Ramona realized it was the thought of going back to Coby after giving up. She wasn't looking forward to the task, but it had to be done, or the whole platoon would fall apart at the seams. "Hey Mina?"

"Yeah?"

_This is a total bummer. _"Do you know where Wulfstan is?"

"Back up in her nest, probably."

Ramona had heard someone moving back through the common room, but nobody had spoken. It must have been Marina walking back upstairs. With a sigh, Ramona debated letting sleeping dogs lie. One flash of Coby's face changed her mind. The dogs were already awake anyway. "Can you take me up there?"

Having repacked her kit, Mina buckled it up and set it aside. "Are you sure?" she asked. "You're doing better, but it'd probably be best if you didn't move around a whole lot. Besides, I don't think it'd be a good idea to disturb her right now."

"Yeah, I'm sure." The sound of the gunshot played through her mind. "Someone needs to talk to her, right?"

"And it has to be you?"

"No, probably not, but…" Ramona stopped to laugh a little before she continued on. Mina took that as a good sign. "I'm pretty good at talking, yeah?"

"Yeah, I guess you got me there," Mina said with a smile. Grabbing the other woman's hand, she helped her to her feet. "Just stay with me. I'll get you to where you need to go." Leading her up the stairs, Mina stopped just outside of the room Marina had claimed as her own. "This is it."

"Alright."

The only distinguishing feature Mina could see on Ramona's face was her mouth. The bottom lip had been sucked into the woman's mouth, and she didn't look too happy to be standing outside of that particular door. "Are you sure about this?"

Ramona bobbed her head from side to side. "No," she said finally.

"OK then." Mina let go of Ramona's hand before taking a step back. The other woman didn't move. "Good luck."

"Thanks." As Mina walked back down towards the common room, Ramona put her hand on the doorknob. Surprisingly, it turned freely as she twisted it. She'd been half hoping that the door had been locked. With a deep breath, Ramona slowly pushed it open. Using her free hand to guide her, she stepped into the door frame. "Wulfstan?" Nobody answered. "Hey Wulfstan, are you in here?" Again, she was met only with silence. Still hoping the room was empty, Ramona took another step into the room. "Marina?"

"Keep your head down," a voice finally answered. It was definitely Marina's, but it came out softer than her normal tone. "Don't want anyone pegging you through the window."

"Oh." Ramona dropped to her knees before placing her free hand on the wall of the room. Crawling forward, she moved until she figured she was next to where the voice had come from. Now that she was actually there, she couldn't think of anything to say. Instead, she sat back against the wall and wrapped her arms around her knees. What would Catherine have said in this situation? Probably nothing. She would have grabbed Marina by the ear and laid into her with an absolute fury. That wasn't an option here. At least not for Ramona. Even if her senses weren't crippled she didn't have the guts or integrity it would have taken Catherine to do the job. She'd have to find her own way of bringing Marina back to a state of mind she could lead from. Ramona could talk to a lot of people, but they were usually pretty eager to talk back. She decided to start with something simple. "So… What are you thinking about?"

Marina nearly choked on the double entendre. "Nothing."

Though the implication went over her head, the answer still gave Ramona nothing to go on. "Oh." She tried to think of something to say to get some sort of conversation going. Something had to be said to kick the other woman back into gear, but nothing came to mind. Instead, it came through the bandages and to her nose. "Is that a cigarette?"

The smoke Marina exhaled drifted through the air before diffusing around the room. "Yeah."

"Since when did you smoke?"

"Since I was sixteen," she said. "I quit though."

"Yeah, I can see that."

"Yeah…" Inhaling again, Marina let the smoke sit for a moment before letting it out.

"Ya' know," Ramona said dropping her chin onto her knee, "I always thought it was gum you were addicted to. Cherry and I always joked about it. We even kept a count throughout Fouzen. See how many sticks you went through."

Marina didn't move. Just as she had been when she had been spotting for Cezary earlier in the morning, it wouldn't have been difficult to mistake her for a statue. "Tried to use it as a substitute. Kept my mind off of things and gave my mouth something to do. Didn't work though."

"That's alright. I guess everyone has their vice. I could use a drink or five about now myself."

"Hm."

The room fell silent. For a long while the two sat staring off into nothing. Ramona took it as a good sign that she hadn't been flat out kicked from the room, but Marina didn't seem too eager to engage in any sort of actual conversation, and there was no way Ramona had the courage to tackle the issue head on. At the moment there didn't seem to be many other options though. "What are you looking at?"

"Just watching the sunset."

Lifting her head a little, Ramona pointed it towards where she imagined the window would be. "Is it pretty?"

"Beautiful."

Ramona smiled. "I hate sunsets." She was only slightly disappointed this time when Marina didn't respond. If the woman didn't want to talk, she didn't want to talk, and if Ramona wasn't going to be able to say anything that could help Marina she decided she might as well say something that would make herself feel better. They probably weren't going to last long enough for it to make a difference anyway. "I always used to sneak out just after sunset. My father hated that. Guess I felt guilty watching them."

Ramona stopped for a moment to remember everything from her life before joining the Militia. She was brought back into the room when the sound of a lighter igniting went off to her side. "Ya' know," she started again. Debating for a moment over whether she wanted to continue, she decided to go on. Marina wasn't going to tell anyone anyway. "My father and I, we uh… We lived alone together before the war. It was actually a pretty nice gig. I did my modeling stuff, he did his accounting. We got by."

"Sounds nice."

Ramona was surprised to hear Marina cut in. "Looking back it was. I mean, it wasn't perfect, but we did well for ourselves." Wrapping her bare arms across her chest, she started to sag as she rested further back against the wall. "My mother wasn't around. She walked out on us when I was still little. I didn't really understand it then – I mean, not that I get it now – but I kind of got used to growing up without her. I don't think Papa ever really got over it though."

"Must've been tough."

"Never really thought about it until after the fact. I didn't take after her, but I think I was the only connecting link to her he had left. He doted over me like no other. I kind of let it get to my head."

"That so?"

Ramona couldn't tell if Marina was being sarcastic or not. Knowing the woman, she assumed the former. In an earlier life she might have gone off on her. Neither of them was in any condition or mood for that at the present. "Yep. Who'd have guessed, right?" Predictably, Marina didn't give any indication either way. It had been a rhetorical question in the first place. "No, it didn't get bad though until just before I signed up. He was doing all of those horrible things parents do, ya' know? Not letting me go out late at night. Looking after my general safety… It was like being oppressed."

"I know the feeling," Marina said.

There must have been a little bit of truth in every joke. For the second time Ramona was surprised that Marina bothered to respond. They were making some progress, but she still couldn't think of a way to segue out of the past and into the present. She almost didn't want to. Besides, a little progress would be better than none at all though. "Yeah, well. I think I took it a bit far. He caught me sneaking out a couple of times, and we really started to fight. After a while he thought I was purposely trying to make him mad. I really wasn't. I just wanted to get out for a while. I got pretty good at it though. Anyway, about a year ago I stayed out one night until sunrise. I was still pretty drunk, and for some reason I ended up wandering into the recruiting office on my way back home."

"I guess you'd have to be drunk."

Ramona laughed. "Yeah. Obviously they turned me away. It must have seemed like a good idea at the time though, because I went back later that day sober. They didn't throw me out again." She stopped to take a deep breath before she continued on. "I uh…" Ramona had to stop again to clear her throat. "I never… I didn't tell dad that I'd signed up until the day before I shipped off for boot. He thought I was joking. Doing that whole 'rebellious princess' thing. It wasn't until he saw all my stuff packed away that he realized I was really going."

Her voice trailed off, and another cloud of smoke worked its way through her bandages. It burned her throat as she breathed it in. "He wasn't exactly happy," Ramona continued. "The Empire hadn't started the war at that point, but everyone knew it was coming. He wasn't a vet himself, but I don't think you have to be to not want your daughter going off to fight. I wasn't thinking much about that at the time though. I just wanted to get out."

"Seems that was your first mistake."

"Yeah." Rolling her shoulders, Ramona stretched her legs out as far as they would go. The bottoms of her boots scraped against the floor before coming to as stop as her knees straightened. "Wasn't my last though. Of course Papa exploded on me. He went on and on about how all I wanted was to look pretty with the saber and the dress blues." Unconsciously her hand swept over the bandage on her cheek. "My train wasn't leaving until morning, but I got fed up with all of the yelling and grabbed my stuff. He blocked the door. There really wasn't anything he could do, ya' know? Legally speaking, I mean. I was an adult. Still… I guess he just didn't want me to leave. I had already sworn in and had to go at that point though, and he was in the way. He wasn't just going to let me by, so we yelled for a while. Finally I just got sick of it all and hit him."

Marina pulled the cigarette out of her mouth. Turning her head, she studied the profile of the woman next to her. She didn't look particularly threatening, even with her face bandaged and her arm stained with blood. "With your fist?"

"Yeah," she admitted. "This was before boot, so it wasn't really a great swing, but I'm a big girl and I remembered a bit from military training in school. I got a decent hit off of him if I do say so myself." Her cheery tone dropped an octave. "I think I hurt his pride more than anything else though. After he realized what had happened he just kind of stood there and watched. That was it. I grabbed my stuff and left. Spent the night at the train station. Haven't heard from him since."

"At all?"

Ramona shook her head. "I've tried writing him a couple of times. Even had Cherry help me draft out some letters. I can't bring myself to send any of them though. Too much pride. I get it from him." Letting her hands fall into her lap she sagged her shoulders. "I think that's why he won't write. I guess he thinks I walked out on him too. Maybe I did."

"You regret it?"

Ramona thought for a moment before answering. "Not all of it," she said finally. "I mean, we're doing a good thing here, so I can't whine about that. Plus it got me away from all of the people I used to hang out with. Most of them were… Well, Cherry's a huge improvement. The only thing I can say I really regret was leaving on such shitty terms. I'd figured back then that I could always make up for it later. I didn't think it would be like this. If Papa ever saw me here I would be so dead."

Looking towards the far wall, Marina's eyes picked out the shell casings she'd kicked across the floor. In the shade under the windowsill, the dull metal objects sat in silence behind the light red glow that came in through the window. "You mean killing people."

There was another long pause before the other woman answered. "Nah," she said shaking her head. "I don't think it's that. I expected that. It's what we were trained for. I mean, I've got four already that I know about for sure. Even stabbing someone. I can handle that. It's… The other way around."

"Dying."

"I'll kill if I have to. I won't even complain. I just can't stand the thought of someone doing it to me. Does that make me a hypocrite?"

Marina's cigarette had burned down to a small stub. Taking it from her mouth, she smothered it on the side of the desk before tossing it next to the shells that lay across the room. "What's the point of all of this?"

"I don't know," she said with a shrug. "I actually came here to speak with you about what happened earlier, but I couldn't think of anything to say so I just said whatever came to mind. Maybe it's the Ragnaid talking. I think I thought it would help me feel better about it. You can only tell Cherry the same story so many times before it becomes routine."

"Did it work?"

Ramona gave a long sigh before answering. "No, not really. Some things you just have to do. I could talk about it all day, and I probably will sometime if Heitinga lives long enough, but I don't think it'll pass over unless I actually send something."

"You ever going to?"

Once again Ramona had to stop a moment before answering. Why would Marina, of all people, have cared enough about her story to keep asking about it? It took a couple of seconds for the realization to set in. Marina got mail. More mail in fact than anyone else in the Squad. She probably didn't care for Ramona's sake, but for her own. "No," she said finally. "I'll tell Cherry I will later and I'll have her write a few more letters for me, but I don't think I'll ever send them. It's like Coby said. You always have to try. It doesn't matter what happens as long as you did everything you could. I'm just not strong enough for that." Dropping her head she laughed at her own expense. "I guess I made a pretty shitty sergeant, huh?"

Looking towards the window Marina could see that the red glow that swept across the floor had begun to fade. They were running out of time. "Coby said that?"

"Something like that, at least. I was only half paying attention. He was really worried about us going off without him or something. It sounded pretty silly this morning, but I can't really blame him now." If she could have chosen anyone in the world besides Catherine to be standing downstairs preparing for the coming firefight it would have been Coby. At this point she would have gladly taken the berating for letting Catherine bleed out if it meant he could be there to tell everyone what needed to be done.

"Hey Linton?"

"Yeah?"

"Did I mess up?"

All this time she'd been worried about discussing what had happened before, but Marina ended up bringing the issue to the front herself. Ramona was slightly relieved, but she still didn't know what to say. In the past she could always throw in a smile and dodge the greater responsibility for what she said. It didn't seem like that was going to be a workable option for the foreseeable future. "Well," she started apprehensively, "it's kind of hard to say. By the books Herbert _did _refuse to obey a direct order so… when it comes down to it I'll vouch for you. But… this is probably going to cause some problems down the line."

Marina let her head fall back against the wall. Mica already wouldn't look her in the eyes, and she had a feeling a few more sets would be on the floor the next time she stepped in front of everyone. Part of her was alright with that. "Hey, look on the bright side though," Ramona chipped in. "At least you don't have to worry about anyone disobeying any more orders, right?"

Marina flicked the lighter in her hand. She let the flame die a couple of moments after igniting it. "But not because they respect me."

"No," a voice sighed next to her. "Not because they respect you."

Once again Marina worked the lighter. This time she let it burn. "Alright," she said. "I can deal with that."

"You sure?"

Flipping the lighter's lid shut, Marina dropped the object into her pocket and picked up her weapon. Edging the bolt back she made sure that there was a round ready and that the safety was on. When she was satisfied she sighed and dropped the gun onto her lap. "No choice."

"Alright then," Ramona said with a smile. Lifting her hands up, she brought them back down with a smack just above her knees. "I'm relieving you of your brooding duties. You've got places to be. I'll make sure there's enough needless angst to fill this room's quota for the both of us."

Shuffling past the other woman, Marina began to edge towards the door. "I wouldn't recommend that."

"Thanks for the concern, but I'll be fine. A little thinking now and then never hurt anybody."

"No," Marina said shaking her head, "I mean sticking around here. You're probably not going to want to be in a room with any windows when the shooting starts."

"Oh." For a moment Ramona had thought she'd been concerned about her feelings. It seemed empathy wasn't exactly one of Marina's strong points. No wonder nobody liked her. "In that case just send Mina up to fetch me before you go out. I should be fine until then."

Grunting, Marina continued on to the door. Ramona stopped her before she'd made it very far. "Hey, Wulfstan?" The marksman didn't respond, but she stopped long enough to turn around. "This is probably in way low class, but… do you mind if I bum a smoke?"

"You smoke?"

"Well…" Ramona grimaced as she bobbed her head from side to side. With a shrug she sighed. Marina wasn't likely to snitch. "No, not really. Don't tell Cherry, but I got stoned a couple times. Not exactly something I'm proud of. I don't really remember a whole lot of the details."

"You tend not to." Marina crawled back over to the other grunt. Pulling out her pack of cigarettes, she pulled one out and handed to her. "Here." Reaching back into her pocket she grabbed her lighter and held it up.

"Breathe in?"

"No. Just puff." A few seconds later the end of the cigarette was glowing red. "You've got it."

"Thanks."

"Yeah." Closing the lighter, Marina examined the pack in her hand. It was still mostly full and she could feel the weight of its contents pressing against her palm. After a moment of thought she placed it in Ramona's lap. "Keep the pack."

"But I don't—"

"No," Marina interrupted, "you're doing me a favor." She started to edge her way to the door again, but stopped before she'd moved more than a couple of inches. Catherine's rifle still sat in the corner. With its scope towards the wall it sat in the dark of the outer edges of the room. Closing her eyes for a moment, she reached back down to the holster on her thigh. "Here, hold on to this too."

The gun felt heavy as it dropped into Ramona's hand. Feeling around it took her a moment to figure out what it was. "But this is…"

"The safety's on, but don't be swinging it around. It's loaded."

"Yeah…" The handgun's magazine was still in place and the slide hadn't been locked back when it was handed to her. It seemed the sniper didn't want to hold on to the weapon any longer than absolutely necessary -- even if that meant handing a loaded weapon to a blind woman. That wasn't like Marina.

Silently, Wulfstan started towards the door again. With the sun going down they wouldn't have much longer to waste if they wanted any chance of establishing communications. As she reached the door she was stopped by a hacking cough behind her. Turning towards the noise, she could see the other infantryman doubled over with her head between her knees.

"Fuck me," Ramona managed between coughs. "How do you guys get used to this?"

Marina shook her head as she turned back towards the door. "It's easier than you'd think."

"Hm." Rolling the cigarette through her fingers, Ramona turned her head towards the sound of Marina shuffling away. "Ya' know, if we only smoke when things get really bad we might make it through the rest of the pack by the time the war ends."

"Hm."

Ramona gave a quick nod. "Hey Wulfstan," she said to the woman's back. "Don't try to be Catherine, alright?"

Marina glanced at Catherine's rifle. Looking down she could see her own gun in her hands. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Good." The shuffling of Marina's movements continued again. Biting her lip, Ramona debated whether or not she should go on. In the end she decided it needed to be said. "Wulfstan," she continued before the other woman had left. "You probably shouldn't try to be yourself either."

She didn't hear a response. Instead, the shuffling faded and the sound of a door shutting gave way to silence. Lifting Marina's handgun, Ramona ejected the magazine. It made a heavy, clattering thud as it hit the floor next to her. With the magazine gone she pulled the weapon's slide back, letting the remaining bullet fly out before replacing the mag, double checking the safety catch, and dropping the weapon into her lap along with the pack of smokes the woman had dumped on her. "Yeah," she said to herself as she placed the lit cigarette back into her mouth. "That figures."

* * *

The lack of food didn't bother him. They hadn't had a meal since breakfast, but he was used to that. Even before the war, food was often hard to come by in Barious. The lack of sleep didn't bother him too much either. He'd gotten used to that within the first few weeks of fighting. By now he'd be happy with a fifteen minute nap here and there. If he couldn't scrounge up the time for that he'd make do. Cezary was tired and hungry, but the only thing bothering him at the moment was Karl.

In front of him, the engineer sat hunched over with his face in his hands. It didn't look like there was a part of the man that wasn't shaking. Standing against the wall, Cezary rested his rifle next to him and pushed his tongue into his cheek. Karl was his only chance of making it out of that building alive, and from the looks of things his odds weren't very good. That put him in a very bad mood.

"She's going to shoot me, isn't she?"

Cezary didn't take his eyes off of the man sitting before him. In a way he was surprised that the guy could talk through all of the quaking he was doing. It would be a miracle if he could ever manage to hold his tools steady. "Only if you give her a good reason," he said.

"No," Karl insisted. "She's going to shoot me. I can't do it."

"What do you mean you can't do it?"

"I mean I can't go out there. They'll shoot me if I go out there."

"Yeah," Cezary said rolling his eyes. "And Wulfstan will shoot you if you don't."

Lifting his head, Karl pulled off his glasses and set them down on the table next to him. Without his head supporting them, his hands rattled as they moved through the air. "She's insane."

"Clearly."

"If she doesn't kill me the Imps will."

"Possibly."

"Probably."

Cezary weighed the man's chances. "Yeah," he said after thinking it through. "Probably is probably more accurate."

Karl's head dropped back into his hands. From the wall Cezary could hear him give out a long moan. The noise grated at his ears. Regard would admit to being many things. He was a liar, a cheater, and a coward. The man would admit that much. He did like to believe he had one good quality though. Dedication. Dedication to keeping himself alive, maybe, but dedication nonetheless. Karl was beginning to wear on that virtue. "I just wanted to find Lynn," the man said into his palms. "Was that really too much to ask for?"

Gritting his teeth, Cezary rolled his eyes. All day it had been Lynn this and Lynn that. For the first time in his militia career the sniper wished that Lynn was well and standing next to him. He didn't like the woman, but at least it would shut Karl up. He could stand being around her for that. "Great. _Her _again. You've really got a one track mind, don't you?"

"What?" Slowly, Karl raised his head. His eyes were bloodshot and he looked like a ghost without his glasses.

"You ever talk about anything else? You're starting to get boring."

"Boring?" Karl yelled as he balled his hands into fists. "She's going to be my wife! What else am I supposed to talk about right now?"

"How about instead of worrying about her you focus on staying alive."

Though he was now sitting straight up in his seat, Karl didn't move to stand. "I don't think you understand what that means."

"What, staying alive?"

"No," Karl said rolling his eyes. "Getting married. You know – actually loving someone."

For a moment Cezary stood in silence. Pushing his tongue into his cheek he rubbed his chin. "I love myself if that counts."

"No, it doesn't count."

Cezary shrugged. People thought he didn't know what love was, but he knew better than anyone else in the unit. Women could come and go. He would never leave himself. Even friends would disappear over the years. Knute was dead, and even if Kevin survived the war they'd have to part ways someday. Only Cezary would always remain. "Fine. It doesn't. The fact still remains that in a couple of minutes you're going to have to go out there, and if you're not focused you're going to die." And so would he. It was probably best to leave that part out. "Do you want to die?"

"Do I look like I want to die?"

"No, but that doesn't seem to be stopping you from acting like it."

In the chair, Karl tensed up. He was frustrated enough as it was. Cezary wasn't helping his mood. "So because I'm afraid for my wife I want to die?"

"Yeah," Cezary said with a nod. "That's about right."

Karl unclenched his fists. Sitting back, he slouched down into the chair. "That's disgusting."

"It's the truth." Watching the engineer, Cezary felt his stomach turn when the man didn't react any further to his prodding. If Karl gave up Cezary would be as good as dead. His life now hinged on the courage of the man quaking across the room from him, and at the moment it didn't seem like he'd be able to save anyone even if somebody _did _put a gun to his head. The fact that the scenario was a very real possibility only served to drive the point home. Cezary would have to resort to low blows to ensure Karl got the job done. The very thought of it brought a smile to his face. "You know," he said with a smirk, "I always found it kind of funny that your fiancée had more guts than you do – and she's a darkie, so what's that say about you?"

To Cezary's relief, Karl jumped up in his seat. The look of disbelief and furious anger on the engineer's face warmed the sniper's heart. "I thought we agreed that you wouldn't say that word in front of me."

"Yeah," Cezary admitted slyly. "Then again, we also agreed that you wouldn't chicken out and freeze up on us. That didn't hold up too well either, did it?"

"That was different. We had a chance then, and Lynn wasn't…" Letting his voice fade, Karl slumped back into his chair again. His face was back in his hands before he stopped moving.

Cezary gave a long sigh. Pushing himself off of the wall, he walked across the room and pulled up a chair next to where Karl was sitting. For a long moment he sat watching. Even insulting his future wife hadn't put the man back in place. Still, if Cezary had one thing it was dedication, and he wasn't dead yet. "Alright Karl," he said quietly. At the change of his tone Karl turned his head. Up close his bloodshot eyes were difficult to look at. "You want to help Lynn, right?"

"Of course."

"Good." There might be hope for saving his skin yet. "We can do that."

Lifting his head, Karl gave a desperate laugh. At this point he'd have been willing to listen to just about anything so long as Lynn's name was attached to it. "How?"

Breathing deeply, Cezary put his hand on Karl's shoulder. He'd never imagined that he'd ever have to talk to the man like this. It almost made him sick to his stomach. "If you really want to help someone in a warzone, you look after yourself. As long as you're watching your own hide your buddy doesn't have to worry about you. There's nothing you can do for Lynn directly right now. Forget about her. You save yourself first, and then worry about saving her. The best way to help Lynn right now is to focus on that wire."

Karl dropped his eyes for a moment. Instead of letting his head fall back into his palms he clamped his hands together on his lap. His body was still shaking, but he found that as long as he concentrated he could keep his hands relatively steady. "That won't save her."

"I said _help_," Cezary said looking away. "I never said save."

"Hm." Unclasping his hands, Karl reached over to the table next to him and picked up his glasses. The shaking motion of his hands was exaggerated by the object as he brought it up to his face. "Hey Cezary… Do you think she's still alive?"

"Lynn?"

"Yeah."

Cezary looked Karl over. He'd never seen a man so on edge in his life. One look could tell anyone that the man wasn't in a good place. It would be best to tell him what he wanted to hear. "I don't know, Karl," he said instead.

Karl didn't say anything at first. Instead, he reached down and picked up his rifle from under the chair. Working the bolt, he made sure the weapon was loaded and ready for action. It shouldn't have mattered to him – he wouldn't be carrying the weapon anyway – but for some reason it comforted him. "You know," he said as he rested his hands on the weapon's grip and placed the butt of the rifle on the floor in front of him, "you're the first person to admit that."

"Maybe it's because I don't care about your feelings."

"Maybe…"

Smirking again, Cezary stood up and began to walk towards his own rifle. "Look, I'll be honest; I really don't like your wife." Picking up his own gun, he slung the weapon around his shoulder before walking back to where Karl was sitting. "But of all the Darcsen scum I've met in my life, I think she's the toughest darkie I've ever known. I can't make any guarantees, but if anyone could manage to weasel their way out of getting killed besides me I'd put Knute's money on her."

Karl laughed before standing up and shouldering his own rifle. In that moment he felt closer to Cezary than he did his own brother. "She's a real tough darkie, huh?"

"Yeah," Cezary said, laughing himself. "She really is."

* * *

The light was changing fast. By the time Marina had made it back down into the common room most of the platoon had already been assembled, fitted, and ready to go. At least, they were as ready as her brutal theatrics had inspired them to be. They looked like grunts from the shoulders down. All of their gear was strapped on, and they had plenty of ammunition in nearly every pocket or pouch they could fit it in. With the thirty odd pounds of gear strapped to their bodies, even the lightly built women of the group like Claudia or Dorothy would have looked intimidating – if it weren't for their faces.

As she had expected, very few sets of eyes met her gaze. Most of the people in the room glued their vision to a spot on the floor. She noticed that Mica's eyes hadn't left the empty holster at her thigh since she'd entered the room. All in all, it was about what she expected. That was alright. She'd deal with that later. There wasn't any time for it at the moment. Grabbing her own gear from the corner of the room, she began to prepare herself for the fight ahead. As she put on the last of the gear and secured it in place she saw Karl and Cezary step into the room. That was everyone. With the full group prepared, all she had to do was make sure everyone knew what was going on. Motivating them would be nice, but she didn't get her hopes up. "We're splitting into two groups," she said once the last of the stragglers had assembled in front of her. "Regard, you're taking care of covering our engineer while he works. Howard and Young, I want you with him as well."

Dorothy and Melville nodded, but neither of them spoke. A nod would do for the time being. "Good." Turning towards Karl, Marina took a moment to look him over. He was still shaking at the knees, but to her surprise he met her gaze. It was difficult for her to maintain the contact. "Karl, are you up for this?"

She half expected him to back out. Instead he nodded. "Yeah," he said. "I want to do this."

"Alright then. You've got Howard and Young to watch you along with Regard for sniper support. I'll leave it in your hands."

"Understood." Stepping back, Karl picked up Ramona's handgun holster from off of the room's table. Setting his own rifle down, he strapped it to his own thigh before moving to join his small group of fighters.

Everyone else would be fighting on the other side of the building. Checking the group over, she saw that most of them were set to go. Elysse's lance was already assembled. Audrey stood holding her shotgun, and Hector leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. They'd already said they couldn't destroy the tank. That was the most concerning factor of the coming firefight. "Are you guys all set to go?"

"We're ready," Audrey answered.

"Oh yeah," Elysse chimed in. "Hector gave us some tips. We'll be able to hold that thing off now."

Marina glanced over at Hector on the wall. When their eyes met he gave a slight nod. Once again, his confidence was reassuring. "He's in charge," she said turning back towards the two girls. "Unless Stijnen or myself give explicit orders you do what he says."

"Yes, sir!"

It seemed everyone was accounted for. Just a few general comments and they'd be off. "We're all set." Looking around the room she could see that most of their eyes were still on the ground. They were going to do what she said, that was for sure, but they didn't all seem too happy about it. Marina felt a pang of shame course through her. Ignoring it, she continued on. "If you're not in the group out front, you're fighting out back. We're defending, but they've got us on firepower. Keep moving and stay fast. Don't try to stick around in one place for too long – they'll just end up sending an explosive or two your way." She paused for a second before going on. Considering the circumstances she wondered whether or not it would be best to continue. In the end she decided it was starting to get dark and that the words needed to be said. "Also, it could get pretty hectic out there, so make sure you keep your safeties on and your fingers off your triggers until you've confirmed a target. I don't want anyone going back draped in a flag because somebody couldn't keep their uniforms straight."

As expected the comment fell a bit flat. That was alright. They'd gotten the message. Still uncomfortable, Marina swallowed before stepping forward closer to the group. "That's about it. We'll be heading out in just a few minutes. Make sure you've got absolutely everything you need. Don't get out there, realize you forgot something, and end up fu—" Stopping herself, Marina covered the pause by clearing her throat. "End up leaving a Squad mate open." A head or two more than before was raised, but the majority of the group still looked glum. She didn't blame them.

Out of the corner of her eye, Marina watched a figure step forward in front of the group. "Hey guys, don't worry so much," Ted said with a smile. Instantly he became the focus of the group. "You don't have to outlive the Imperials. You just have to survive until Wulfstan runs out of ammo."

Surprisingly, Ted managed to get a few laughs. Marina wanted to cry. Instead, she stepped forward again and pointed at Mina. "Aid station is going to be here. If anyone gets hit and needs to pull back, this is the place to go." Turning back towards Karl, she waved her hand towards the front of the building. "That's it. You're clear to go."

Grabbing the rest of his team, Karl began to make his way towards the front door. Before stepping out of the common room he gave Cezary a quick nod as the sniper walked up the stairs. With Dorothy and Melville at his side he walked away from the rest of the platoon and into the entryway of the building. There were two large windows on either side of the room. Picking one each, the two grunts with him hunkered down around them. "You ready for this, man?" Melville asked as Karl fumbled with his tools.

"Yeah," Karl said. Securing his tool pouch shut, he pulled the handgun out of its holster and turned off the safety. "I think so."

"Good luck," Dorothy muttered quietly. "We'll make sure you come back safe."

"Thanks." Feeling his heart pounding through his chest, Karl studied the door in front of him. That was all there was between him and the Imperials. Stepping up to it he allowed himself one moment to Imagine Lynn on the other side. Before his hand reached the handle he'd pushed her out of his mind. "Well," he said, speaking to nobody in particular. "Here goes."

Turning the knob, Karl slammed his shoulder into the door. It gave way easily, and he pushed through with enough momentum to set him off at a run. For a few moments he thought he'd make it through unnoticed. He couldn't see any Imperials down the road, and everything seemed unnaturally calm. His stomach nearly jumped through his throat when he heard the first round crack past him.

Dropping into a half crouch, Karl didn't stop to see where the shot had come from. His only hope of making it was to keep moving and to hit the wall that stood in front of the building. As he moved forward he heard more bullets fly past overhead. A louder, closer stream of reports reached his ears as Dorothy opened fire behind him. Karl still couldn't see who was shooting at him – and he couldn't tell if Dorothy could see them either – but the sound was comforting. Although it felt like minutes, within a few short seconds he hit the wall and dropped down to a sit against it.

In the edges of the windows he could barely see Dorothy and Melville peeking out every so often to give their return fire. Pieces of concrete and stone blasted in chunks off of the building as the duo took fire. He couldn't see Cezary up on the second floor, but Karl could hear the distinct crack of his rifle intermittently. Double checking the handgun he was carrying, he turned over onto his knees and peeked over the edge of the wall. With the rubble lining the sides of the road there would be enough cover for him to move forward without being completely open. On the other hand, the Imperials would be able to move forward themselves. He'd have to move quickly or he'd lose his opportunity to reach the wire.

Trying not to think of the incoming fire, Karl began to hoist himself over the wall. It wasn't a high wall, but it was high enough to prove a difficult obstacle for a man carrying thirty pounds of gear and a full set of tools. Straddling over it on his stomach it was impossible to not notice the bullet impact that struck the wall just below where he'd placed his arm. With a quick thrust, he pushed his center of mass over the obstacle and fell to the ground on the other side. Karl didn't bother trying to get back up. It was safer on his stomach. Crawling to his right, he took cover again behind a pile of rubble. Near his feet he could see the wire he needed to fix. It was still intact. The cut was still a ways down the road.

Needing to move further, Karl weighed his options. In the end he found he really only had one. If he tried to crawl over the rubble like he had the wall it would be unlikely that he would still have a pulse when he reached the other side. Crawling back around the side seemed to be the better alternative. Inching forward the engineer rounded the rubble pile. Ahead of him he could see an Imperial fireteam advancing down the street. When one of them spun around and fell to the ground his buddies ran for cover. The casualty gave Karl enough time to work around to the next safe zone.

He still wasn't there yet. In fact, he hadn't made it very far at all. Resting his stomach on the small rubble pile, Karl raised the handgun and aimed down its sights. There were a lot of bullets flying through the street, but he still couldn't make out any targets. Instead of taking aim at anything in specific, Karl pointed the gun at anything that looked like it could have served as suitable cover and fired around the edges. After going through a magazine he reloaded and rolled over onto the ground.

As Karl edged towards the next stoop he caught sight of movement ahead of him. Rolling as far as he could to his right before hitting the wall of a building he raised the handgun again. For a moment he waited. Nothing came around. Karl held his position until a burst of rounds kicked into the cement next to him. He couldn't wait anymore. Crawling forward again, he kept an eye out for anything that could have been waiting down the road. Looking left he saw the Imperial group from before running from cover to cover. They weren't moving forward though. Not with a sniper covering the road. Relieved, Karl turned his attention back towards the road ahead. The wire was still there. So was another Imperial.

With his grey armor the man had almost blended in with the debris on the street. He'd seen Karl at just about the same time Karl had seen him, but he'd already had his weapon raised. Without the handgun pointed downfield, Karl was at his mercy. Fortunately, it seemed mercy was on his side. With a series of heavy thwacks the Imperial's armor exploded out sideways and a thick stream of blood painted the wall next to him. For a moment Karl was dumbfounded. Looking backwards he could see the Gallians behind him continuing their covering fire. They wouldn't have been able to hit the Imp at the angle the round had torn into him. Looking for the source he turned to his left. He couldn't see anything until there was another series of reports accompanied by a bright light. Karl's heart jumped at the sight of the face lit up by the muzzle flashes. _Rosina. _

* * *

Next Engagement: State of Love and Trust (2)


	30. State of Love and Trust 2

**Engagement 30: State of Love and Trust (2)**

The firefight started slowly for how close the combatants actually were to each other. Unfortunately, that didn't make the bullets that were flying across the square any less dangerous. Keeping his head below the tiny wall he was huddled behind, Hermes held tightly to his rifle. In the five and a half minutes since the tiny group had left the building, he'd only gone through one of his magazines. The comparatively light cracks of the rifles being fired next to him were overshadowed by the heavy roar of Cherry's .30, but even then the gunfire was only intermittent; constantly intermittent, but intermittent nonetheless. It only cropped up to break the otherwise perpetual silence. And yelling.

Hermes couldn't make out what was being yelled between the Imperials about a hundred meters ahead of him, but he could definitely tell they were communicating something. It probably wasn't smart of them to be yelling. Nobody was far enough away for it to have been necessary, and even if there were troops far enough apart to necessitate yelling hand signals would probably get the job done just as well without letting the enemy listen in. Either way, it didn't matter. Hermes couldn't make out what they were saying anyway. It could be the Imperials knew the Gallians were just out of earshot. That or they were just plain lucky.

Even though he couldn't make the voices out, that didn't make them any less intimidating. There were Imperials within earshot. That was never a good thing. Most of the time he could hardly see the enemies he was shooting at. They'd be too far away and too well dug in to really make out. Hermes had just fired his rifle and called it all good. The few times the Imperials had gotten within earshot had never ended well. Nina was a testament to that.

When there was a steady break in the gunfire Hermes raised his head above the cover and brought his rifle up. The Imperials they were engaging had holed up behind a similar wall about one hundred meters away from them across the other corner of the square. He couldn't see any of the Imperials hiding behind it. It didn't seem like anybody wanted to stick their head out for any substantial amount of time. After a few seconds of waiting he grunted and dropped back down. No use sitting out in the open without any targets to shoot. As soon as he was sitting again Mica popped himself up. Instead of lifting his entire head and raising his weapon, he just let his eyes barely clear the top of the wall. His Mags rested on his knee. "Not exactly how you were hoping to end the night, eh Mica?" Hermes said to the man next to him.

There was a series of pops from across the square. One of them was followed by a distinct crack overhead. "No, not exactly." Raising the weapon off of his knee, Mica lifted the gun up to his face and extended more of his profile out from behind the cover. Twitching his finger, the Mags erupted in three short bursts before the man came back down. Pulling the magazine out of the weapon, he tossed it behind him before reaching for a new one. "We're just going to be shooting at each other all night if something doesn't give."

"Might not be the worst thing." The tank. It had been out there. He'd seen it himself. Hermes wasn't sure if he was more or less comforted by the fact that it had disappeared. Somehow he had a feeling that it hadn't gone far.

"Maybe not." With a new magazine loaded Mica was ready to fire again. Instead he rested his back against the wall. "Hey Nadine," he called across the space along the fortification. The woman he'd addressed was feeding rounds into the machinegun a few heads down. She turned her head at the sound of her name. "You brought the ammo, yeah?"

Nadine opened her mouth, but the words were lost as the heavy weapon next to her began to work its way through the belt of ammunition she held in her hands. When the weapon burst to life she ducked her head slightly – the dull, heavy rapping sound of the gun caught her by surprise. Instead of answering vocally, she gave a thumbs up.

Satisfied, Mica turned back over onto his knee. Instead of looking over the wall again though, he waited. Hermes didn't bother to bring himself up either. He already knew what he would see – nothing. The Imperials were there, that was for sure; the rounds flying overhead made that clear. None of them were willing to make themselves targets though. He wondered if they had a similar view from over on their side of the square. Deciding not to bother peeking his head out, he instead watched the one weapon on their side that continued to fire. The heavy machinegun continued to chew through the rounds on the belt it had loaded in. Though he was sure Cherry wasn't hitting anything, Hermes had a pretty good idea he knew why the Imperials weren't popping their heads out very often. She could go through ten thousand rounds and not hit anything for all he cared – as long as she kept firing, the Imperials stopped.

Cherry was also the one in charge at the moment. When the firefight began, the small unit of Gallians had broken up into two smaller groups. Wulfstan was acting Platoon Commander, and she'd taken a small contingent of grunts along with her to the other side of the kill zone. As acting Platoon Sergeant, Cherry led the rest of the group to the wall they were currently holed up behind. In a way it was unsettling. The girl was only 16, and officially only a private to boot. In the scheme of things, Marina was the only person in the entire firefight that wasn't actually a private – and she was only a corporal. Still, that brought a little bit of comfort as well. Even though they'd been whittled down to the bare bones, they still had structure. They had a method and a means to implement it. If a 16 year old girl was next in line, so be it. As one of the few 7s that had been around since the beginning of the war who was still a private, she had more actual combat experience than anybody there besides Wulfstan anyway. People called her stupid and ditzy – and she was – but she at least knew which weapon was best suited for the job and which way to point it when the time came. Hermes could respect that. She was still a bit young though. Damn shame.

By the time Hermes's mind had drifted back to the ongoing battle the .30 had finished its way through the current belt. Instead of opening the top cover as she usually did, Cherry left the job to Nadine and waved Hector over to where she was kneeling. Once they were next to each other she leaned forward and spoke into his ear. Hermes could see the girl's lips moving but he couldn't hear what she was saying. It had to have been something important though. At least, Hermes hoped it was. "Heads up, Hawkins," he said as he watched Hector nod at what Cherry had been telling him. "I think we're finally getting things started."

"Hm?"

"Check it out." With a flick of his finger he pointed towards where the other two grunts had been conversing. Mica turned his head just in time to see Hector give one final nod before making his way back and grabbing Audrey by the shoulder.

"Yeah… Here we go."

The two watched as Hector sifted through his pack and pulled out a large cylinder. While he was occupied, Audrey began preparing her lance. Before the final piece of the weapon had been assembled, Hector slid the long tube into the firing chamber and locked it into place. When the weapon was fully assembled and ready to fire, Audrey let it rest on her knee instead of getting into a firing position. Grabbing her shoulder once more, Hector cupped his free hand over his mouth. "Lance! Give us some fire!" he called. His voice was clear over the small arms fire going off around him.

Without hesitating, Hermes lifted his rifle above the wall again. This time he wasn't being picky about targets. The lance would take care of making an opening; all he needed to do was make sure the Imperials didn't find much incentive in peeking their heads out to pick Audrey off as she lifted herself high enough out of cover to fire the explosive round. As he'd guessed, he didn't actually see any of the Imperials down range, but he could see what they were using for cover and that would do him just as well. The distinct crack of a few rounds flying over their heads would be more than enough to keep their heads down for a minute. When the magazine had been emptied Hermes fell back down to his knee and ejected it from the weapon, once more letting the object drop to the ground. As he readied a full magazine from his rig, a watched as the rest of the unit finished through their rounds. Mica's Mags blazed through its remaining ammunition. The man behind it had hardly let off the trigger. Over the cracks of the rifles and Mica's Mags, the .30 thumped and rattled – its rounds fracturing the stone around the wall the Imperials had fortified themselves behind. While the machinegun made the most distinctive report out of all the weapons firing, it wasn't the one that caught Hermes's eye. Instead, he focused on Hector firing Cherry's rifle, and despite the circumstances he had to stifle a laugh – it was almost comical to watch the left handed man focus as the expended shells that shot out of Cherry's right handed rifle flew through the air in front of his face.

The man made it through the magazine though, and once he ducked back into cover the barrage ended. Only the .30 continued to fire. When everyone else had taken cover, Audrey hoisted the anti-tank weapon onto her shoulder and aimed it towards the wall. "Lance!" Hector called one last time before she fired.

"Lance!" Hermes relayed. Another two voices called out the same word in response.

Holding once more onto the girl's shoulder, Hector checked to make sure everyone in the unit was in a safe position before arming Audrey's weapon. "Clear the back!" he yelled, patting her three times on the arm. The pat was the last thing Hermes saw before ducking he head down and covering his ear. With his eyes closed he couldn't see the weapon go off. He didn't need to. The sound of it firing was like a punch to the gut. Even with his hand cupped over his ear the noise tore into his head, and he swore he could feel the ground shake through his knee pads. Finally looking up Hermes saw Audrey calmly dismantling the back of the lance and readying another cylinder. He couldn't see Nadine or Cherry anymore. Along with Elysse they'd been obstructed from view behind the huge cone of smoke and debris created by the backblast of Audrey's lance.

Hermes didn't have time to admire the destruction the lance was capable of dealing behind it if somebody wasn't careful about what she was standing in front of when she fired it – he was more concerned about what had been done by its business end. While lances could tear through lightly armored vehicles like bullets through drywall, they didn't fare quite as well against concrete or stone. As he aimed back down it sights Hermes could see the damage to the enemy placement didn't live up to his hopes. A clear chunk had been blown off of the wall, but it remained otherwise intact. He imagined that it looked worse from their side than it did his. If an anti-tank round had gone off a few feet in front of his face – under cover or not – he didn't think he'd be willing to do much more than curl into a ball. Then again, he wouldn't have much of an option, and neither did they. It was incredible what people were willing to do under fire that they never would have imagined doing otherwise. Incredible and often alarming, considering the Imps were just as willing to do whatever it took to stay above ground as the Gallians were. Too bad he'd have to shoot them anyway. Some of the women were pretty cute once their armor was removed. That was the one drawback of the military. Even on the Gallian side it was nearly impossible to tell the difference between men and women from the neck down once all their gear was strapped on and their chest rig was secured. Once they finally got their helmets even the areas above the shoulders would be difficult to distinguish from a distance. Not that he often looked that high anyway.

"Is everyone alright?" Hector asked over the gunfire.

Hermes didn't wait to answer before he began firing. "Yeah," he called between shots. "All good." When he'd fired his last shot he didn't bother dropping all the way back down below the wall to reload. Keeping his eyes above the wall, he scanned the enemy line. The few Imperials who hid behind it didn't look as they lifted their weapons above their safe zone and fired blindly into where they imagined the Gallians were hiding. The bullets flew all over the place. Though the accuracy was abysmal, a few stray rounds found their way close enough to Hermes's position to make him jerk his head down. They weren't frequent enough to send him to cover for good. While the Imperial's fighting style wasn't textbook, it didn't earn a second look. He'd done it himself on more than a few occasions. Instead, a desperate waving from across the square caught his attention. Focusing his eyes he could see Marina trying to grab their attention. Letting go of the foregrip of his rifle, Hermes waved back. When the woman caught sight of him, she lifted her Mags above her head.

"Hey Stijnen!" Hermes yelled across the wall. Between belts, Cherry stopped reloading the machinegun to look over towards the man calling her. "Wulfstan's got more coming up!" Not taking his eyes off of Marina, he watched as her hands worked above her concealment. "She says they've got a tank!"

When Marina dropped back down below her wall, so did Hermes. They'd known the tank was out there somewhere. It had only been a matter of time before it reared its head. He was also sure that it would bring more troops with it. Though neither force was particularly large, they'd counted at least twenty Imperials before the sun had set. Only a small number of them were currently in the square. It wasn't an uplifting thought. The Imperials didn't have enough troops to make a move now, but with

more soldiers coming up they'd be able to outmaneuver the Gallians without too much trouble. Straining his ears, Hermes could actually hear the tank moving closer. It wasn't long before its barrel edged around the corner of a building and into the square. The sound of the 62 tonne behemoth rolling forward droned under the barrage of gunfire. Somehow it didn't become white noise. "Hector," he called again, "it's on you guys now."

Hector was already unloading more of the large cylinders he'd been carrying. Emptying his rucksack of the load, he lined the three tubes up in a row against the wall. Grabbing the last of them, he began to pack it into the back of Audrey's lance. Glancing up he could see the vehicle slowly creeping forward. "We need it a little closer," he said. "Just hang on a minute."

Hermes had the feeling it was going to turn out to be a very long minute. The moment he lifted his head to catch another glimpse of the approaching tank, its muzzle exploded out with an earsplitting bang. Almost instantly the wall Wulfstan's group was using for cover was lost in the resulting explosion. As the smoke began to clear Hermes could see that the tank shell had done a good deal more damage to the Gallians' cover than their own anti-tank weapon had done to the Imperials'. Though it still stood – for the most part – a large section had been completely blown off of its front, and the rubble from the remains of the bisected chunk littered the ground for meters ahead of the position. Hermes could only imagine the string of curses that were probably now streaming from the woman's mouth, and he debated for a moment whether more of them were being aimed at the tank that had fired the shot or at Hector. Probably the latter, knowing Marina.

Even if he could have heard the woman cussing him out Hector wouldn't have moved. Focusing intently on the tank, he slowly leaned Cherry's rifle up against the wall and dropped his now empty hands to the ground in front of him, letting his fingertips barely drift over the cobblestones below. Without even realizing it Audrey mirrored his actions with her free hand, cradling her lance in the crook of her elbow. The tank that crept forward ahead of them formed an intimidating profile in the changing light. Its silhouette dominated the scenery around it. Hermes had seen one or two of the Leopards in full daylight before. The Imperial main battle tank was covered from head to toe in thick metal plating. The infantry lances were nearly useless against the tank's heavy armor, and he couldn't think of a place for the rounds to break through. Hector seemed confident though. That was at least a little uplifting – for a moment. It dawned on Hermes that confident was the lancer's standard, and his retention of the virtue could mean anything from 'everything's going to be A-OK' to 'we've been fucked from the beginning'.

The tank rolled to a stop when it had made it about halfway to the Gallians' walls from the entrance to the square. There was a second explosion on Marina's wall, and even before the smoke from the blast cleared the tank's machinegun opened up on the area the main cannon had been obliterating a moment before. After a moment of waiting it was clear that the tank wasn't going to be moving any farther forward. Hermes heard an audible sigh coming from his right. He was surprised to see that it had been Hector. Nodding, he patted Audrey on the shoulder and prepared to hop the wall. When the girl hit the wall next to him he turned his head back towards Cherry's machinegun. "Suppress!"

Although he'd been specifically yelling to the machinegun crew, it was implied that the order be for everyone. It didn't need saying. While the tank in the middle of the square was the current main threat, the infantry that the Militiamen had been engaged with before hadn't ceased their fire. In fact, as predicted there were now more of them. Growing bolder with their increase in numbers the Imperials now stuck themselves out to aim their shots more efficiently. The difference in their accuracy didn't go unnoticed. As soon as Hermes stuck his head out to provide the covering fire the air around him was filled with loud cracks and pops. A small piece of the wall fractured right in front of his face. The bullet that did the damage couldn't have hit more than a couple of inches below the top of the wall. He didn't debate whether or not to duck back down though. Hermes was already firing by the time enough of his head had cleared his fortification to see where he was firing. As soon as he'd released the weapon's safety bullets were leaving its chamber. They weren't particularly well aimed, but they didn't have to be. Cherry's gun was doing most of the work anyway; he was just throwing his two ducats in on the side.

Hector was scaling the wall after a brief moment of letting the outgoing fire affect the Imperials' morale. Swinging his leg across, he flipped himself stomach first onto the wall. As he reached the top, Audrey grabbed his boot and used to lever the man over onto the other side. Once he'd found his feet he turned around to help Audrey. She passed the lance to the man before she attempted her own scaling. Hands free, she repeated the man's process. Unable to flip the girl over with her leg, Hector instead grabbed the back of her rig as she teetered on her stomach and yanked her across to the other side.

The pair would be completely exposed as they worked to halt the tank. Although the vehicle itself had glued its sights to the other unit's position, the enemy infantry would certainly take notice of a pair of Gallian Militiamen running around outside of cover. Hermes stopped firing wildly. His rifle wasn't meant for suppressing enemy troops in the first place. He left that to Mica and Cherry. Instead, he waited patiently for a head to peek out from behind the Imperial wall. As heads started to pop out, Hermes began to send them back down. He didn't hit anyone, but that wasn't his prime concern. Scoring a kill was bonus points. Right now all he wanted to do was insure that Audrey and Hector weren't picked off under his nose.

In a crouch, the two moved forward until they'd found themselves at about a 30 degree angle from the front of the tank. They didn't seem to notice the rounds that still kicked up in the street around them. At least, Hector didn't. Audrey looked like she was about to faint. She pushed forward anyway. As much as Hermes hated to admit it, the girl was kind of cute when she was afraid. In any case, it was more impressive watching her keep moving forward even though she was clearly scared witless than it was watching Hector run forward seemingly blind to the danger.

Dropping to a knee, Hector handed Audrey her lance. As she brought it up to her shoulder he stepped to her rear to arm the weapon. There was nothing for the girl to do but wait until the lance was ready to fire. Wide eyed, she couldn't pull her gaze away from the giant armored vehicle ahead of her. The tank was still focused on the other group, but all it would take was a glance from one of the crew members out of a vision slot to bring the two down. They wouldn't stand much of a chance standing in front of the tank in the open.

Audrey remained in her trance until a pat on her shoulder suddenly tore her out of it and brought her back into the fight. Hector had already finished arming the round and had cleared the back of the weapon. On his knee, he waited with his head down and his back to the enemy tank. His right hand was up to cover the ear facing the weapon. That was her cue to fire.

Hermes almost lost sight of them when the anti-tank weapon went off. Thick plumes of smoke shot out from the back of the weapon, and though they were standing farther away from him this time the world still felt it shook a bit. It wasn't as heavy as the tank rounds impacting the wall, but it was about as big a blast as he imagined a handheld weapon could allow. Supposedly the kick wasn't unbearable, but Hermes couldn't imagine ever firing the beast. The very thought tired him out. More importantly though, he'd caught sight of what the two had been firing at. The tank was completely armored – except for a small gap between the treads and the ground to allow for uneven terrain. It was narrow, but it could fit a well aimed anti-tank round. Unfortunately, Audrey's shot hadn't been as well aimed as necessary. Hermes could see the spot where the round had struck the armor, but the damage to the metal plating was only superficial.

It wasn't until Hector began loading the next cylinder that Hermes realized he was supposed to be watching the Imperial line. The realization came late. Before the tube had made it into the back of Audrey's lance the front of the girl's chest rig blew out in a fine white powder. As she tumbled over sideways the lance crashed to the ground next to her. Hector didn't hesitate long. Leaving the girl where she lay he grabbed the weapon and began the loading process again.

"Stijnen!" Hermes yelled across the line. "Heitinga's down!"

Glancing over towards the acting Platoon Sergeant only when he'd stopped firing to reload, Hermes could tell the incident had put Cherry on edge. It wasn't until Nadine smacked her upside the head that the girl slowed the machinegun's fire to a rate that was safe enough to not pose too much of a risk of overheating the weapon.

His focus was concentrated on the Imperials now, but out of the corner of his eye Hermes watched Hector finish reloading the lance. Next to him, Audrey's legs kicked out. Rocking from side to side, the girl clutched onto her stomach and let her head loll on the ground beneath her. For the time being, Hector ignored her. All of his efforts were devoted to readying the weapon in his hands.

Almost as fast as the lance had been torn from Audrey's hands, Hermes watched the weapon fall to the ground a second time. This time though, the would-be firer stayed on his feet. Reaching back, Hector ran his hand across his shoulder. Hermes could see that it came back bloody from where he was. Abandoning the lance, Hector grabbed the back of Audrey's rig with his still good right arm and began to drag her back towards the safety of their position on the wall. With the girl kicking and dragging her boots against the ground as they retreated and his wounded shoulder they were moving incredibly slowly.

Before he even realized what he was doing Hermes was already straddling the wall. "Hey!" Mica yelled next to him. "What do you think you're doing?"

"You expect me to leave a lady dragging?" Despite his chivalrous efforts, Hermes wasn't making much progress on his own. "I need help. Give me a push."

"You can't be…"

"Just give me a push, dude. We don't have time for this."

Sidestepping over to where the man was climbing the wall, Mica brought his hand up to his side. Whether intentional or not, the push turned out more like a strike. It succeeded in knocking the Gallian over to the other side of the wall, but it also caught him by surprise. Hermes made a note not to scale any more obstacles with the man's help.

He wasn't particularly sore about it though – at least not at the moment. Right now he was bent on linking up with the two wounded Militiamen trying to make their way back to safety. Hector had seen him climb over the wall, and by the look on the man's face Hermes could tell that he was not happy about the stunt. "What the Hell are you doing?" he asked when Hermes had made it next to him.

"You guys look like you could use some help."

"Yeah, a whole lot of help you're going to do us if you get hit too," the man replied, letting go of Audrey's rig and stepping around towards her legs. "Grab her by the arms, I'll get her legs."

Hermes didn't waste time with arguing. Instead, he argued while he worked. "You sure you can carry her with your arm torn up?" he asked while grabbing the wounded girl by the armpits.

Grunting in pain, Hector lifted the girl's calves into the crook of his good arm. "Get moving."

The words came out more like a threat than a command. Obediently Hermes's legs started moving. Still conscious, Audrey's eyes flashed quickly across his face. They were bloodshot, and tears were now running down the side of her face, but they were still the same wide, terrified eyes he'd seen before she'd been hit. It wasn't cute this time. She mumbled something, but Hermes couldn't make it out over the din of the battle surrounding them. "Hey, you're alright, sweetie," he assured her. "You're stronger than you look."

Audrey responded with what might have been an affirming nod. It could also have been a tremor. With her head pressed up against his stomach he couldn't tell. As he backed up into the wall Mica stopped his fire on the other side. Slinging his Mags over onto his shoulder he brought his arms up to help the other two lift the casualty over. It was slow work getting her across safely, and by the time they were done the two remaining Militiamen were beyond eager to get themselves back behind cover. With his arm hit Hector wouldn't be able to effectively help Hermes mount the obstacle. Going first, he stepped into the other man's cupped hands and vaulted himself across as best he could. When Hermes made it up himself, Mica pulled him back into the safety of the position.

Letting Mica resume firing and telling Hector to check out his own arm, Hermes bent over to secure Audrey before they sent her back to Mina. Even though they were now safe from the enemy fire her eyes still hadn't changed. Hermes had to move in close to hear what she was saying. "Where am I hit?" she asked weakly.

"I don't know yet," Hermes said giving her a quick once over. He couldn't see any blood. "Where does it hurt?"

With staggered breathing the girl thought for a moment. "S-Stomach."

Hermes had seen her chest rig blow out when she went down. Whatever had hit her hit her hard. He was surprised when it took him a moment to find the bullet hole. When he did his heart jumped. The hole was through a large pouch over the direct center of her stomach, and the material around the fringes was scorched. If they'd pegged her with an incendiary round she was already smoked. "Did you find it?" she asked with another tear rolling down her cheek.

"Yeah," Hermes said. "Just… Let me check you out real quick and we'll get you right over to Mina." Cautiously, his hands reached down to the pouch she'd taken the bullet through. Tentatively edging the flap open, he sighed in relief when he saw what was inside. Breaching shells. A number of them had cooked when the round passed through. That accounted for the scorch marks on the outside of her rig. She at least wasn't dead yet. "Alright, I need to take off your rig. I'm going to roll you onto your side, OK?"

"Yeah," she stammered.

Pushing her over onto her shoulder, Hermes began to work the straps that kept her equipment secure. When the restraints loosened he was able to easily lift the chest rig off of her body. Setting it aside, he let Audrey gently flop down onto her back. It was hard to miss the entry wound now that her equipment had been removed. The fabric of her utilities had been torn, and as soon as her rig had been removed the blood that hadn't soaked through spilled out around her. He hadn't seen an exit wound before she'd hit her back again. "Am I good?" she asked.

"Yeah, yeah," he assured again. "All good." It clearly wasn't something he'd be able to throw a quick fix on to keep her fighting. She needed someone who knew what she was doing. "Hawkins," he called over to the man fighting next to him. "I'm taking her to Mina. Hold the fort down while I'm gone."

"Sure thing."

As he began to hoist the girl around his shoulders he could see Hector already grabbing the final anti-tank round. "You're up, Moore," he said to the girl nearby.

Elysse didn't say anything. Instead she just stared out towards the Imperial line. Hector began to edge his way towards the wall, but stopped when he saw that the other lancer wasn't following. "Moore? Come on, let's go."

She still didn't move. Taking one look towards Hermes her gaze fell on the wounded grunt he was carrying. Her eyes looked eerily familiar. "Hey Moore," Hermes called out when he realized she wasn't going to move on her own, "when you're done blowing the shit out of that tank what do you say we grab a cup of coffee sometime?"

The lancer's eyes didn't lose their frightened look, but a little bit of control began to show through. "I… Like coffee."

"Moore!" Hector yelled from the wall. "Let's go!"

"Hm?" Her eyes instantly left the pair headed towards the aid station and fell on the man carrying the lance's ammunition. "Oh, Yeah," she said slightly embarrassed. "Coming."

Hermes almost smiled as the two began to scale the wall. Elysse was cute, but she was still a bit young. Maybe she had an older sister. Being careful not to lift Audrey above the top of the wall, he walked her in a crouch over to the entrance of the building the unit had holed up in for the majority of the day. The main entryway was empty – it was the next room that held the aid station. He was relieved to see that other than the two casualties from earlier in the day nobody new had been added to Mina's workload. Audrey was the first and only. "Got somebody here to see you, Doc."

Mina's medical equipment was already put out in neat rows and ready for use. The group had run out of collapsible stretchers, but she'd laid a couple of spare blankets on the floor on which to place the wounded. "Bring her down here," she said. As carefully as she could, Mina helped peel Audrey off of Hermes's shoulders. The girl left a long streak of blood on the man's uniform between the shoulder blades where her stomach had been pressed up against him. "You doing alright there, Audrey?" Mina asked when the girl was on her back.

"Just need to… catch my breath."

There was a shuffling noise from nearby. "Audrey?" Ramona said with a concerned voice. Using her hands to guide her, the woman crawled closer to the now occupied blanket. "Audrey, are you OK?"

Audrey lifted her head slightly. With her utilities unbuttoned she could see Mina cutting a square out of her undershirt. As the other woman lifted the fabric out of the way, Audrey could clearly see the hole in her stomach. When Mina wiped the blood that had leaked out away she watched more pool up over the torn edges of skin. Her jaw dropped open enough to match her eyes. "Never better," she lied with a shaky voice. The act wasn't particularly convincing.

Hermes stuck around long enough to watch Mina begin working on Audrey's wound and for Ramona to grab her friend's hand. Once he was sure there wasn't any more he could do at the aid station he stepped over to the makeshift weapons cache in the corner of the room. Replacing the magazines he'd expended outside he walked out of the room and back towards the exit. He took care not to make eye contact with the girl on the floor as he passed.

While he wasn't eager to get back outside, Hermes didn't think it could be much worse than the aid station. By the time he'd made it to his spot on the wall Elysse was just flopping over the wall again. Falling back into cover, she looked up at Hermes and smiled. "You owe me," she said.

There weren't any holes in her, and Hermes couldn't see any blood spilling out from underneath her equipment. That was always a good sign. Looking up above the wall, he noted that the tank's armor was still perfectly intact, but pieces of the tread hung loosely out of the front of the well. "Yeah, I guess I do," he mused.

Hector's shoulder was bleeding pretty badly though. The dark splotch spreading across his uniform wasn't an uplifting sight. It didn't seem to bother the man though – or at least to a degree that he was willing to show. "Hey Hector," Hermes said, "you need to pull back?"

"I'm fine." Instead of retreating the lancer picked Cherry's rifle off of the wall. With his injured left arm he wouldn't be able to fire the weapon as he normally did. Switching sides, he pressed the butt of the gun into his right shoulder. "At least I don't have to worry about the shells shooting out across my face anymore, right?"

Hermes nodded. He could respect a glass half full, and Hector could have filled glasses for the entire Squad. His admiration for the man's determination was cut short when he heard a lighter voice to his side. "We're moving," Cherry's voice called out. Looking over, Hermes saw the girl swing the .30 over onto her shoulder. Her eyes winced as the weapon came to a rest. It was clearly more weight than she'd been used to carrying. Behind her Nadine grabbed the rest of the ammunition. They were down to only a few remaining belts. "That tank will kill us if we stick around here."

Although the treads were destroyed, the tank's guns still worked just fine. If the group didn't maneuver to a fortification that the tank shells couldn't hit they would be dead in a matter of minutes. Even if there wasn't a tank in front of them, the infantry reinforcements could outflank them, and with their side exposed they might as well have been up against a firing squad. Luckily the square had more than a few barriers to hide behind, and it was only a matter of moving from one to the next to find a safer place to hunker down. Letting Mica take the lead, Cherry fell in line behind him and ran alongside the wall. Only a few paces behind her, Hermes left the two remaining lancers and Nadine to follow in his wake.

The concealment they were running for stood about fifty meters past the end of their current cover, and it would be beyond the turning radius of the Imperial tank's nearly fixed turret. The L shaped wall ahead would give them cover from a flanking movement if they set themselves up at the bend. It would be as good a place as any to make a last stand. The only obstacle between the Militiamen and a defendable position was the fifty meters of open space in between. Piece of cake.

Mica was the first to hit the gap. At first he didn't draw any fire – the Imperials hadn't expected them to run out into the open. Hermes probably wouldn't have expected it either, but after the moves with the lancers and evacuating Audrey it might not have come as big of a surprise as someone imagining the firefight playing out before the beginning of the battle may have thought. By the time Cherry stepped out to follow him though the wave of bullets began tearing through the empty space between the two walls.

It was an intimidating sight. Hermes could only see the occasional tracer zip across the spaces his body would soon occupy, but that was more than enough to scare him silly. Taking the first step out into the open he did everything he could to keep himself from squeezing his eyes shut. At first he wasn't sure if he was succeeding. The empty space passed by in a blur. It almost felt as if he were half way there before he realized he'd even stepped out into the open. Then it hit him that he hadn't even reached the one-quarter mark.

Mica hit the wall before Cherry had even made it half way. Toting the machinegun the girl couldn't get up to speed. Hermes was merely steps behind her within seconds of running, and he could hear her labored breathing over the gunfire coming from across the square. After a day with the .30 she looked about ready to fall over and die. Hermes could imagine it in his mind, and at first it didn't seem unnatural when the girl actually did stumble forward and fall flat. The only thing that tipped him off to the fact that something was really wrong was the heavy thwack of a bullet finding its target.

Being as close as he was, Hermes panicked as she fell. He couldn't do anything more than hurdle her body as she crashed arms first onto the cobblestone. Swerving a little bit as he landed, he quickly regained his balance and kept running forward. If Cherry was hit badly enough that she couldn't make it to the wall she'd be on her own until the remaining combatants could lay down enough covering fire to extract her safely – assuming she wasn't dead already. Seeing as she was carrying the .30 when she fell, the prospects of that happening didn't look good.

Hermes didn't bother to slow down until he'd cleared the gap. The first thing he noticed was Mica clumsily working the strap of his left glove. When the man had finally unclasped the catch and slid the glove off Hermes winced. For all of the modern weapons and tanks in the world it seemed nobody had yet bothered to invent bulletproof gloves. "Oh man," Hermes said eyeing the damage. "You alright?"

Mica ignored the question and countered with one of his own. "Where's Stijnen?"

"Oh shit," Hermes said turning back towards the gap. The three trailing Militiamen were nearly there. Cherry still lay at about the halfway mark. Nobody had been able to stop to pick up her weapon as they passed by.

Elysse was in the lead. Reaching out his hand, Hermes helped pull her along the last few feet before safety. When Hector came through he made special care not to agitate the man's shoulder. The larger lancer sprinted past, almost bowling Hermes over as he went by. That left Nadine. Carrying the ammo, she lagged slightly behind herself. It was a few seconds longer than the gap between the two lancers, but within a few seconds the engineer was within reach. Reaching out his hand, Hermes grabbed onto hers at the same moment that he heard a repeat of the sickening thwack.

Stumbling, Nadine plowed into the man helping her. With all of her gear and the extra ammunition, her forward momentum almost knocked Hermes onto his back. He stumbled back himself a number of steps before finding his feet and balancing the woman in his arms. "Nadine?" he asked.

"Thigh," she grunted.

Looking down he could see the wound – a bloody mess of torn fabric just above her knee. "We've got another bleeder," he called. Letting the woman keep most of her weight on him, he gently helped her remove her pack and set her down to a sitting position against the wall. Hermes took a glance towards Mina's aid station and the gap that now stood between it and the group. "Are you going to be OK?"

"Yeah," she said. "I think so."

"Good." Taking her rifle from off her hands, he handed the weapon over to Elysse. They were still a combatant down, but not a rifle. With a weapon in her hands that could effectively fire at the ranges necessary, Elysse dropped the shotgun she'd been carrying against the wall in front of her and began to lift herself high enough shoot.

She stopped before she made it up. "Hey," she said with a worried look on her face. "Who's in charge?"

The small group looked at each other. Turning back towards the gap they could see that Cherry still hadn't moved from the spot she'd fallen. Nobody had worked the chain of command much further before the groups had split up. Supporting the foregrip of his Mags with his forearm, Mica let his mangled hand dangle. "Well…"

"This doesn't change anything," Hector said next to him. "Hawkins, you're our heavy weapon now. Keep as much pressure on them as you can. Kissinger, fire off a few grenades their way. We'll keep doing what we're doing. We need as much suppression as we can manage until we can retrieve the .30 and evacuate Stijnen." Before stepping away he bent down so that he was nearly eye level with Nadine. "Are your arms still working?"

"Just fine."

"You're reloading for Hawkins."

"I've got that covered."

Hector smiled. "Perfect. Also, between magazines sort out the spare ammo you brought along. Get it sorted into piles according to type. If someone's running low toss them as much as we can spare."

"Yes, sir." It wasn't until Nadine closed her mouth that she realized the 'sir' was unnecessary. Still, the question was answered, and the reactionary response sent a surge of confidence through her. The fight would always go on.

While Nadine began reloading Mica's weapon, Hermes took a quick peek above the wall to determine range. His head was only exposed for about two seconds, but the incoming rounds were already dangerously close. Though the Imperials wouldn't be able to easily flank their new position the Gallians weren't able to put a whole lot of pressure on them, and the lack of a heavy weapon meant that the Imperials weren't shy about sticking themselves out to shoot. By the time he'd estimated the distance he nearly had an extra three holes in his forehead. Around him, Mica, Hector, and Elysse didn't lift their heads too high out of cover to pop off their rounds. In fact, Mica merely lifted his arms up every so often and fired blind. His accuracy was shit, but it put lead downfield.

Luckily, Hermes didn't need a direct line of sight to judge his shot. Setting his rifle's butt on the ground, he slowly arced the weapon until the grenade slung under its front would land where he wanted it to go. When he was satisfied he pulled the trigger and the explosive shot off into the air and out of sight. As the round exploded across the square, Hermes loaded a second one. This time he aimed it about ten degrees higher than the previous one. After firing the two rounds he'd been carrying, he took a look above the wall before calling out to Nadine for another one. The first shot had fallen short, but the second had found its way into the Imperial lines. It fell a bit further to the right than Hermes had hoped to aim it, but if it hadn't at least wounded one of the Imps it should have sent a few of them for cover.

He didn't get much more time above the wall before the bullets came at him again. The group just couldn't get enough fire on them to make any difference. Hermes lifted his rifle over the wall and squeezed off a couple of shots. Without looking he was sure that none of them had even come close to the armored figures on the other side. The effort was probably a waste of ammo. As he reached down to grab another grenade round, he shot a glance towards the rest of the small unit. With his shoulder injured Hector was having a hard time working the rifle he carried. Mica's hand wasn't faring much better. As Nadine – whose leg was still bleeding a bit more than was comforting – reloaded his weapon, the man pulled at the wound with the fingers of his working hand. "Dude," Hermes said as the shock trooper winced, "What are you doing?"

"I'm pulling the slug out," he said. "It's jammed in my hand. I can see it."

"Leave that for Mina, man."

"It's bothering me just sitting there, though."

"Well it's bothering me watching you try to pull it out."

"Nah, it's all good. I've almost got –" Mica didn't finish the sentence before a look of agonizing pain shot across his face. With a cry, he quickly let go of his hand and pressed it up against his chest.

"Shit, what did I tell you?" Hermes said stepping closer. "Let me take a look at it." Grabbing his buddy's hand, he inspected the area around the bullet hole. All he saw was a bloody, mangled mess. "I don't see it."

"Right there," Mica insisted, pointing to a mass sticking out of the back of his hand.

Hermes took a long look. When it dawned on him he nearly laughed, and instantly felt bad about it. "That's not a slug, dude," he said dropping Mica's hand. "That's bone."

"Oh…"

"_Never _try to pull the bullet out, buddy. You'll just hurt yourself."

Grumbling a bit, Mica reached out to grab his Mags from Nadine. Supporting herself on her good leg, the woman had taken over Mica's job of firing the weapon while he was attempting to nurse his wounds. When her hands were empty, she slumped back down onto the ground. "You know we should really do something about that leg."

Surprisingly, Nadine smiled. "I'll take care of it in a moment," she said. "You need to keep shooting."

"Yeah, alright," he replied. "Just make sure you –"

With a concussive blast, a grenade burst just over the other side of the wall stopped Hermes mid sentence. Not bothering to finish his conversation with the injured woman he quickly jumped up to fire off a few more shots. The incoming fire was continuous now, and he didn't risk keeping his head above the wall for long. Even the seemingly fearless Hector wouldn't take more than one or two aimed shots before ducking for cover. Hermes was just about to lose hope when a familiar sound filled his ears.

Over the continuous sound of the Imperial weapons and the rare reports of the Gallians' own guns, he could clearly hear the sound of a medium machinegun. Looking towards the noise he could scarcely believe his eyes. Supporting the weapon on a mound of loose brick, Cherry fired the .30 from her stomach, still lying on the spot she'd fallen. After a moment of matching the sight in front of him to what it actually was, Hermes could clearly make out the tears streaming down the girl's face. It was a wonder she could aim.

Hector noticed her at the same time. Realizing that the incoming fire was slowing under Cherry's fire, he began to run towards where she'd fallen. The girl only had the ammunition belt that she had loaded into the weapon, and once it ran out she'd lose the only shield keeping the Imperials from finishing her off. He didn't waste time calling anybody else to help him. As he ran past though, Hermes fell in step and followed closely behind.

The two reached the girl just as her weapon spit out its last empty casing. That didn't give them much time to dilly-dally around. "You take the gun I've got the girl," Hermes spurted as he reached down, barely slowing his step as he grabbed Cherry by her rig. The way he spoke the sounds jumbled into one long word.

Hecter seemed to have understood though. Bending down to lift the .30, he picked the weapon up and began his mad dash back to the unit.

Although he could hear Cherry sniffling as he dragged her, he didn't stop to check her out until they'd made it back behind the wall that stood in front of their original position. As long as he didn't give his position away the tank wouldn't be able to see them. Finally letting her go, Hermes watched as Cherry rolled over onto her stomach. "Are you OK?" he asked. "Where are you hit?"

"They got me in the seat," she said between sniffs.

Hermes was speechless. Following the line of her body, he let his eyes move towards the indicated body part. Sure enough, there was a small hole in the fabric of her pants, and a large bloodstain was forming around her butt. "Again?"

"It's the other cheek this time," she moaned.

Kneeling at her side, she wouldn't be able to see the smile that crossed his face. He didn't feel particularly bad about this one. "Alright, I'm taking you to Mina."

Cherry nodded slightly as she let him begin to lift her. When he reached out for her arm she cried out in pain. "Ow, dammit! Stop stop stop!"

"What did I do?" Looking at her arm he couldn't see any bullet holes, and she hadn't mentioned it when he'd asked where she'd been hit.

"I like, landed on my arm when I hit the ground I think."

"I'll keep that in mind." Being careful of her arm, he was able to lift her onto her shoulders and walk back into the building. As he walked into the aid station he found that Audrey wasn't its only recent addition. Sitting against the wall, Hannes had both of his hands full, holding one compress against his outer thigh and another against his opposite deltoid. Along with the shoulder that had been plugged full of shrapnel two days before, the wounds would surely have him wrapped like a mummy. "Hannes," Hermes said as he stepped further into the room. "How are you doing?"

"Fuckin' wonderful," he grunted sarcastically. "How the fuck do you think I look?"

_Better than Audrey, _he thought as his eyes fell on the girl he'd carried in previously. She'd turned a pale white, and Mina still worked on her furiously as Ramona clung to her hand. Hermes didn't want to interrupt, but the blonde didn't seem to realize that he'd brought her another casualty. "Hey Doc, I've got another one for ya'."

Mina stopped working only long enough to take a quick glance. She returned to the girl in front of her before responding. It had only taken her a quick glance to establish priority. Then again, it didn't take a trained eye to see that Audrey wasn't in a good place. "You guys are keeping me busy. I don't like it."

"Take it up with Ian." Setting Cherry down on one of the blankets, he stopped to make sure everything would be taken care of.

"Is that all of the wounded?" Mina asked, still not looking up.

"Only those who we wouldn't let refuse being pulled out."

Keeping as much pressure as she could on Audrey's stomach, Mina paused and looked up. "Who else is hit?"

Hermes thought for a moment. He had no idea if anybody besides Salinger had been wounded on the other side of the square, and most of his group had some sort of hole in them already. "Well," he said trying to come up with the best way to relay the information, "Moore isn't."

The woman didn't respond. Instead she merely grimaced and continued working on the girl in front of her. While Hermes wanted to make sure everyone would be taken care of, Cherry turned out to be the one to speak up. "How's it goin' Audi?" she asked. The tears weren't flowing as freely now, and she'd regained much of her composure. "You're looking totally good. Mina's got everything on the up-and-up."

Audrey mumbled a bit before she could vocalize a coherent answer. "Guess this is… what I get for… enlisting… on a whim… huh?"

"No," Ramona assured her. "The boss is totally going to save us. He'll sweep in and you're going to be just fine." Audrey smiled when she'd said 'the boss', but she didn't say anything more. When Ramona was sure her friend was finished talking she turned her head slightly. "Cherry," she said in a concerned voice, "don't tell me you're hurt too."

"Would you call me a bitch again if I lied?"

The fact that she was still joking did wonders for her friend's reassurance. "I'll call you a bitch anyway," Ramona joked back without letting go of Audrey's hand, "but you _are _OK, right?"

"Totally A-OK."

Mina had picked up on the banter as well. Though the girl was well enough to joke around Cherry still had a hole in her that needed plugging, and she didn't have the hands to do it. "Linton, I'm going to need your help," she said. "Grab one of the compresses on the floor to your left and put pressure on your buddy over there. Hermes will help you out."

As Ramona blindly fumbled for the medical equipment Hermes looked over Cherry's wound. He didn't have the slightest idea of where to start. Somehow Mina picked up on that too. "You've got to clear the wound of any equipment. Once everything's out of the way just guide Linton's hands. She'll take it from there."

Hermes still didn't move. "You mean like… all of her equipment?"

"Anything she's wearing that's in the way."

The scout took one more look at the hole in Cherry's bottom – and the pants she wore over it. Glancing to his side he could see that Ramona still hadn't found the compress she was looking for. When he looked back Cherry was staring at him. She took one peek at her arm before averting her gaze to the ground. "I uh…" she started sheepishly. "I'm going to need your help with this one."

"You mean like–"

"Yeah."

Hermes cleared his throat before reaching out to help the partially crippled girl with her utilities. Even though she'd turned over onto her side to make the job easier, Cherry's belt slipped through his hands. After what seemed like a full minute of clumsy fiddling, it finally came undone. "Alright, you're good."

"Thanks," Cherry said as she reached down with her good hand and unzipped the zipper. For another minute her fingers fumbled with the button above it. "Um…"

"You're kidding me, right?"

Cherry's expression assured him that she wasn't. This was either turning out to be the greatest, most triumphant day of his life or the most horribly awkward deed he'd ever had to carry out. Either way – or possibly both ways at the same time – he had to bite the bullet. "Here goes…"

Reaching out with both hands, he quickly undid the button. When Cherry rolled back over onto her stomach, she lifted herself up on her good arm just high enough to let her pants slide easily. It took Hermes a moment before he realized she wouldn't be able to hold herself up forever. Finally taking action, he grabbed everything she was wearing between himself and her skin and pulled. When the top of her utilities rested below the curve of her now bare bottom, Hermes took a moment – and only a slight moment – to admire his work. Whatever desk jockey had decided it was a good idea to create mixed units had clearly never served a tour of combat. Thanking the man silently, he pulled his eyes away from the girl and checked to see how Ramona was faring with the compress. Though he had to admit Cherry had a nice bottom despite the bullet wound shaped scar on the right cheek, it still had a large, bloody hole in the left side that needed fixing.

Luckily, Ramona had found what she was looking for, and with a guiding hand Hermes was able to bring her over. "OK," she said when she stopped, "I'm ready to go."

"Alright." Grabbing her wrists, Hermes put the hand that was holding the compress over the wound, and placed the other on top. "Push there," he said.

Cherry winced as her friend applied the pressure. Hermes couldn't see the expression on Ramona's face, but the tilt in her head gave away her surprise. "It's really… soft. What did they hit?"

"It's Cherry's ass," Hermes answered.

"Again?"

"No," Cherry explained for the second time. She didn't look happy about the situation. "Other cheek."

Ramona stifled a laugh of her own. "I guess they really like your ass, don't they?" Cherry didn't seem to think it was as funny as her friend found it to be.

"Alright," Hermes said letting go of Ramona's arms. "If you've got everything set here I need to head back out."

"We should be good. Go on."

"Great." Standing back up, Hermes took a couple of steps towards the door. It wasn't until he'd almost made it out of the room that he stopped in his tracks. _Wait a second…_

Slowly – almost as if it would disappear if he moved too quickly – he turned back around. Sure enough, it wasn't just his imagination. For a long moment he stared. It could have been a work of art. A very large part of his mind told him that it was. Ramona's hands were on Cherry's bare ass.

Cherry noticed him gawking first. As if she'd read his mind, a wry smile spread across her face. "Don't you have somewhere to be, Hermes?"

"I…"

Blind, Ramona was oblivious to the context of the situation. It was probably better for everyone involved that way. "Hermes? Get going, they need you out there."

"But…"

"That's an order. I don't want to die here, you know."

Cherry went from crying to nearly laughing. Her face turned a dark red as she held it in. "But…" Hermes continued to stammer. "I've had dreams about this."

As Cherry finally burst Ramona caught on to what was happening. "Get out!" she screamed.

Hermes was gone before the echo faded. With the memory still fresh in his mind, he exited the building and began to make his way back to his unit. Though he knew he'd have to cross the gap again, he also knew that this time he'd cross it with a smile.

* * *

It took every ounce of effort Karl had left not to have immediately jumped up and ran to where Rosina – barely visible behind the cover of her counter – fired the Mags. Someone had survived, and if Rosina had made it through the day alive it was very possible Lynn might have too. What compelled him further to abandon the wire though, was the feeling that washed over him when he realized exactly what Rosina was firing. A Mags.

Where did Rosina get a Mags? She wasn't supposed to have one. Lynn was. Why wasn't Lynn firing the Mags? A million similar questions filled his mind. It was possible that she'd recovered Edy's weapon. Edy was already dead and accounted for, but they'd never found her weapon. Still, even if it was Edy's weapon and not Lynn's, that didn't answer any questions about his future wife; it only answered questions about Edy, and although any death within the Squad was a loss he wasn't in any particular mood to dwell on somebody who was already dead.

Somehow, though, Karl realized that even through all of the questions circling his head and his fears for Lynn's life that he had still been on the move. No matter what was waiting for him in the broken down building that Rosina – and possibly _only _Rosina – now occupied, the wire had taken priority. His slow crawl to the break passed in a blur, and when he'd finally reached his damaged objective he wasn't entirely sure how he'd gotten there.

He had gotten there, though, and as he assessed the damage he did everything he could to push his other worries from his mind. It wasn't as difficult as he'd thought it would have been, considering the situation they were in and his desperate and failing attempts to keep his head clear on his crawl to where he now lay. The wire was just another roadblock between himself and Lynn; an obstacle to be got over. Though he was moving farther away from where he hoped she would be spatially, he convinced himself that every step towards his objective was actually a step closer to helping the woman, and abandoning the wire would be to consign her – and an entire half of Squad 7 – to certain death or capture.

Thankfully the damage to the wire itself was easy to fix. Using a soldering iron with a portable ragnite charge, he fused the two severed ends of the line together. The entire job only took Karl about forty seconds. Truth be told, he was glad to finally be doing some labor. Working with his hands kept his thoughts off of other things, and for forty seconds the only things in the world that Karl was thinking about were two ends of metal wire and the soldering equipment he brought with him. They weren't exactly ball bearings, but it was almost as if a small part of Fouzen had found its way to Rodez.

As soon as the job was finished, though, everything came back – and it came back hard. The obstacle was gone. The moment his gear was repacked and secure he was on the move. Making sure that Cezary would be able to see that his objective was complete, Karl made a mad dash for the broken building that he'd seen his fellow 7 firing from moments before. His trip back also passed in a blur. Karl was sure that the Imperials were firing at him – they had to be – but he didn't notice. Any other time he would have been quaking. Frozen in a doorway. Somehow he'd kicked the door down, and in his mad dash out the door he'd used the incoming tracers to light the way.

When he finally realized he'd reached the building, he lifted himself high enough to mount the shattered store window frame and rolled inside. Rosina's face over the countertop was the first thing he saw. It wasn't the one he was looking for, but it filled him with more hope than he'd known possible. "Karl?" she said, lifting the barrel of her Mags towards the ceiling to let him into the room.

"Rosina." Even just saying the name was wonderful. "Is there anybody el–"

"Karl!"

The familiar voice turned his legs to jelly. All at once he was exhausted. He hadn't found time to feel tired through all of the fear. Edging his line of sight around the counter brought an arm into view. A few degrees more brought a tuft of dark hair. Just looking at it shot a surge of energy through the fatigue. "Lynn!" Bursting forward, he ran forward towards the woman on the floor. He didn't see Rosina step around the counter and bring her arm up until it struck him.

The force of the blow nearly knocked the man backwards. There was always another obstacle. "Hold on there Cowboy," she said. "You can't touch her."

"What was that?" Karl asked dumbstruck.

"You can't touch me," Lynn said from the floor.

The words would have killed him if they hadn't come from the most beautiful voice he'd ever heard. It almost surprised him how wonderful she was at that moment. Her voice cracked and rasped. The room around them was shattered and broken, and he was pretty sure the rank smells that assaulted his nose were blood, vomit, and urine. Still, Lynn – sweat, dirt, tears and all – was perfect. "What do you mean I can't touch you?"

Lynn tapped her fingers against the ground next to her. She hoped Karl hadn't picked up on the sign. She always fidgeted around when she was trying to spin something. "Just… safety," she said looking for the right way to say it. "I… _may _have hurt my back. Just play it safe, alright?"

One look into her eyes told Karl she meant it. "Yeah," he said. "Alright." Taking a closer inspection of the room he saw Susie lying in the back. Her leg had been bandaged, and he could see bandages wrapped around her shoulder through a hole in her undershirt. "How's Evans?"

"Do we look like medics to you?" Rosina answered pointedly. "I don't know past she's still alive. We patched her up as best we could but she's been out all day."

"Hm." Karl slowly built a list of priorities in his head. Lynn couldn't move. As much as he hated to admit it, Susie took precedence. "Is it just you three?"

"Yeah. We're all that made it here, at least. You find anybody else out there?"

"Nelson and Dufor."

"They safe?"

"Dead."

The disappointment hit Rosina like a hammer. She'd heard the reports from inside of the building, but she'd still held out the hope that at least some of her comrades had found another way out. "Oh."

"I've got to pull Susie out of here," Karl said changing the subject. Moving on quickly would be the best course of action for everyone. "Is her back injured as well?"

"No," Rosina responded. Her voice still held a hint of shock, but it faded as she continued on. "It shouldn't be. She was shot. No head or back injury. Honestly I don't know how she went out in the first place, let alone stayed out this long."

It was a lot of words for his question. Taking note of everything she'd told him, Karl backpedaled to the first four words of her answer. "No it shouldn't be, or no it isn't?"

Rosina thought for a moment. "No it isn't," she clarified.

"OK. I'm taking her to Mina then. Lynn's down for now. Were you hit at all?"

"Took a smash to the head. I lost it myself for a while, but I came to after a bit. I'm alright."

Reaching down, Karl hoisted Susie up. "I'll be back, then. You two stay safe." Rosina nodded. On the floor, Lynn sent him a smile. With a nod, he let Rosina lay down a burst of fire before he stepped back out into the street. He didn't look back as he carried the wounded woman on his back around the wall and towards Mina's aid station. As he walked, Dorothy and Melville put as much fire downrange as they could possibly manage.

Melville opened the door for him as he walked into the entryway. The look of relief the swept across the faces of the two Militiamen when they saw who he was carrying was contagious. "I'll be damned," Melville said as Karl walked past. "Not a bad haul there."

"Yeah," Karl said without slowing down. "Got two more as well. Keep the fire going."

Turning back towards her window, Dorothy shouldered her weapon. "Sure thing."

Karl stepped into the actual aid station, and instantly felt a little bit of his confidence drain. It was dishearteningly full. "Hate to add to your load," he called over to Mina as he dropped Susie onto an open blanket, "but I've got another one for you."

Mina looked up for a moment to briefly assess the newest casualty. "She's unconscious," she said with a concerned look on her face.

"Yeah."

"How long?"

"I think the better part of the day," he replied recalling Rosina's words.

The look of horror on the woman's face didn't match the relief he'd expected to see. "The better part of the _day_?"

"Is that bad?"

"No," she said. "A couple of minutes is _bad_. How did it happen?"

"Shot twice."

Mina looked back down at the girl she was working on. "How's her head?"

"No problems there." Rosina had been hit in the head though, he recalled. She'd been out for more than a few minutes as well, by the sound of things.

"Stable otherwise?"

"Patched up."

Mina sighed. "Audrey still has priority." Without glancing up she addressed the other wounded grunts in the room. "You guys are going to have to wait just a little longer now, though."

"I've got two more out on the street. One of them can't move. I'll send the other back here and hold out there until the area's secure. You hear from Regard?"

"He stopped down just before you walked in," Cherry said from on the floor. "Somebody's on the way."

"Good." They would still have to hold out until they actually arrived though. Walking across the room Karl stopped next to the wounded man holding the compresses to himself. "Hey Hannes," he said, "You need your Mags?"

"You planning on killing Imps with it?" the man asked with a grunt.

"Damn straight."

"It's all yours."

The man's smile brought a warmth to Karl's heart as he picked up the weapon. Locking the bolt back he found that it was already unloaded. He didn't have any magazines for it on him though, so he stopped over by the cache to pick some up. After he filled his rig, he stuffed a few more into his pockets. Karl had no idea how long they'd need to hold out, and Rosina could use one or two to make it back to the aid station.

When he was sure that he was ready to go, Karl walked back out into the entryway. Dorothy and Melville were busy at work. He didn't bother them past letting them know he was on his way out. Checking their fire, they gave him enough time to slip out before they resumed their barrage.

He didn't bother dropping onto his stomach this time out. It would have taken him more time than he could stand to expend. Instead, he ran in a half crouch, and made it to Lynn's building in a quarter of the time. Stepping into the room, he immediately pulled out two of the magazines he carried in his pockets and handed them to Rosina. "Here you go," he said. "They'll get you back to the aid station. It's in the building. Don't stop until you get there."

Rosina stared blankly at the ammunition he'd handed her. "Aid station?"

"How long were you knocked out?"

The woman thought for a moment. "I don't know," she answered. "Half hour. An hour maybe."

"Yeah, go get yourself checked."

"Is that bad?" Rosina asked with a worried look.

By the way Mina had been talking, a half hour to an hour probably went past bad. "Yeah," he said. "That's bad."

Dropping her eyes to the table, Rosina scrunched her eyes for a moment. It almost seemed to Karl as if she were trying to adjust her eyes' focus. When she lifted her head again, she loaded one of the magazines Karl had handed her into her weapon. "I guess that means I'll be first in line when they pull us out," she said smiling.

Karl wasn't sure he understood what she'd meant. It took a moment for him to realize she wasn't going to leave of her own free will. Lynn was a little quicker on the uptake. "Rosina?"

"Two guns are better than one, right?"

From the floor, Lynn could see the bulky woman lean forward and support her elbows and weapon on the counter. Rosina seemed serious about sticking around to fight it out until they could safely move her. "I thought you said you hated me," Lynn stated when the woman aimed down the weapon's sights.

Still holding her finger outside of the trigger guard, Rosina swiveled the weapon back and forth, scanning the area outside for targets. "Yeah," she said. "I meant every word of what I said."

"Then why aren't you pulling out?"

Rosina scowled behind her weapon. To Karl, she looked genuinely offended. "I also said I wasn't going to leave anyone behind," she reminded the woman on the floor. When the scowl faded, it was replaced with a sheepish smile. "That's what fucked us over in the first place, remember?"

The smile didn't last long. In moments it was replaced with a blank slate of a stare. With a jerk of her thumb, Rosina flicked her weapon's safety catch, placed her finger on the trigger, and pulled.

* * *

Next Engagement: State of Love and Trust (3)


	31. State of Love and Trust 3

**Engagement 31: State of Love and Trust (3)**

"Do you think she's going to be alright?"

"Hm?" Turning his head towards the voice, Ted was confused by look on Claudia's face. She looked mortified. At first he assumed she'd meant Cherry. They'd seen her go down, and it had taken a few minutes for her comrades to reach her. Cherry continued fighting though, and even though it had been a wait she had still been alive and fighting when she'd been pulled out. Odds were she was still alright. Claudia had seen people go down before without looking absolutely disgusted anyway. She even seemed to have kept her composure throughout Fouzen, and on top of the atrocities they'd seen there it was her first operation. On top of even that, Claudia and Cherry didn't seem particularly close. Stijnen was a good friend of his, and Ted had never seen Claudia and Cherry interact beyond what was required in the unit. It wasn't the wounded girl that had her upset. "Who?"

"Her." Without calling any names Claudia merely pointed her finger. Following it, Ted almost kicked himself when he realized what had the woman upset. He should have figured. Hunched with her back against the wall, Marina pulled a magazine out of her rig and prepared to reload her Mags. Her action wasn't what caught his attention though – it was the constant stream of profanities that had been flowing out of her mouth since the tank showed up. As soon as she was brought back into Ted's focus the sound came through again. Ted had personally tuned her out after her third iteration of 'that Goddamn piece of horseshit lying motherfucker Hector.' He'd learned that once she got to the third repetition of colorful phrases there wouldn't be anything new coming out, and she'd just be on an endless cycle of repeat for the rest of the fight. At that point it was best to zone her out. "Is she alright?"

"Yeah, she's good," Ted replied as he turned away from their acting platoon commander. As soon as the woman was out of sight her voice faded into the background.

"Really?" Claudia asked. "It's just… I've never really heard her talk before, and now…"

"Nah, she's always like this."

"Oh."

"You get used to it." As Ted's rifle kicked back against his shoulder he caught a glimpse of Marina out of the corner of his eye. Her voice flooded back in over the sound of his reports. 'Kak'. Ted was pretty sure he'd never heard that word before, and if he hadn't it was certainly new to Claudia. From what Ted had heard the woman hadn't gotten out much before the war. She'd probably never heard the combinations of words that were now shooting across the field, let alone realized they were possible. Sure, the drill instructors back at boot could yell all day – and they had – but they never swore. Ever. The damage Marina was currently doing to Claudia's sensibilities could be staggering. He'd have to look that word up later. "Sort of."

Claudia held out another magazine to replace the one Ted had fired off. She was visibly shaken, and it didn't seem to be the incoming fire that had put her off-kilter. "Sort of as in 'not really'?"

Ted thought for a moment before taking the object from Claudia's hands. "Yeah, not really."

As unsettling as Marina's constant profanities were, Ted could forgive her in account of their context. That tank had been bad news from the beginning, and seeing it halted in front of them didn't do much for lifting one's fighting spirit. Hector had said he could slow it down. Everyone had assumed that that meant he would keep it busy or incapacitate it somehow for a short amount of time. Instead, the man had taken out one of its treads and called it a day. Sure, now the tank couldn't move, but it didn't do anything to actually pull the beast out of the fight. Now it was just stranded. Although Hector had probably saved their lives, 'Lying motherfucker' actually sounded reasonable at the moment – though the reasoning as to why Marina was cursing out Hector instead of the tank that had actually been firing on them was lost on Ted.

Still, whether the tank deserved her fury more than Hector or not, the man wasn't going to get off easy even _if _they made it through the fight. As soon as the tread had been destroyed Cherry's group had moved forward and hunkered down behind a different wall. The group Ted was with didn't have that option. Past their own barricade was nothing but empty, open space that stretched all the way to the Imp's position. They'd been able to saddle far enough over that the tank rounds weren't as dangerous a threat as they originally had been, but they hadn't been able to move far enough to keep Hannes from paying an arm and a leg. Ted couldn't resist pointing the man's misfortune out to the rest of the group. Hannes didn't laugh.

The tank's main gun wasn't the current threat though. While it could still fire, the Militiamen had moved far enough to the side that they wouldn't be severely injured by its blast. The problem now was the crewmember manning the .50 caliber machinegun mounted on the vehicle. With the hatch open, the Imp stood with just enough of his body exposed to fire the heavy weapon. Although a well aimed round would send him crashing back down the hatch that he was standing in, his incoming fire didn't allow for enough time to line up a good shot, and with all of the equipment and metal plating the tank was carrying the other group across the square wouldn't have a clean hit on him.

As it was, they were stuck. The trio of Gallians couldn't do much more than hold their ground. Making headway on the Imperial infantry wasn't a viable option at the moment. Ted continued to fire as many shots as he was willing to fire before ducking back below his wall, Claudia continued to put as many bullets into the spare or expended magazines as she could, and Marina continued to provide moral support for anybody who was still willing to listen.

"Hey, Claudia," Ted said bringing his rifle down. "Pass me a grenade?"

Sorting through her pack, Claudia pulled out an explosive and handed it to him. "Is he close enough?"

"I think I can lob it over there." He could. He knew he could. Getting the grenade there wouldn't be the issue. Unless he placed the grenade right on top of the man he'd be decently well shielded from the shrapnel the grenade would send out. It was about the only option he had at the moment though, and the grenades weren't doing anything otherwise. Unscrewing the base cap, Ted took a step away from the wall. "Grenade out!" he called before drawing the pull cord and throwing the grenade towards where the tank was stranded in the square beyond their cover. Once the weapon had left his hand Ted pressed himself up against the wall and checked to make sure that everyone had heard his warning. Claudia was already down, and Marina had followed Ted's lead and crouched down against the wall.

It took a few seconds longer than it should have for Ted to realize that the grenade hadn't gone off. Looking up he could see that Marina had already come to the same conclusion and was peeking above the wall. Following suit, Ted brought his eyes up just long enough to see the stick grenade still lying unexploded on the ground. A dud.

"What's wrong?" Claudia asked, halting her magazine loading long enough to give Ted a concerned look.

"Looks like that one was a little shy."

"Figures," Claudia said rolling her eyes.

"What figures?"

Reaching into her pack, the woman pulled out another grenade. "Nothing," she said as she handed it over. "Try this one."

Shrugging, Ted took the explosive and readied the cord. Calling out another warning, he armed the device and tossed it over the wall. The blast came within seconds this time. "Alright," Ted said pushing himself off of the wall. "There's one for two. Want to try to make it two out of–"

The second blast nearly toppled Ted over. Grenades were loud, but they were quick concussive bursts. This explosion lingered. Thankfully he hadn't exposed his head after the grenade he'd thrown went off. After the explosion faded, pieces of metal flew over their position, and he could hear small chunks strike the wall in front of him. Without hesitating, Ted reached down and pulled Claudia up against the wall next to him. As the rain of shrapnel came to an end, she slowly edged herself up. "What happened to the tank?" she asked when she'd cleared the cover.

What Ted saw in the square when he lifted his own head left him dumbstruck. The tank was still there, but it was debatable as to whether or not it still qualified as a tank. It looked more like a burning hunk of metal. He was very alright with that. "It looks like…" Scanning the square he searched for anything that could have done the job. Hector couldn't have done it. The infantry lances couldn't penetrate the heavy tank's armor plating. It had to have been either a bomber or another tank. There weren't any balloons in the sky overhead. Bomber was out. Looking back towards the rear entrance of the square, his eyes caught movement. Blue uniforms. Infantry and jeeps. Behind them was a tank. It was difficult to make out in the fading light, but Ted could clearly see the distinct shape of the Edelweiss. "Nah," he said, pulling Claudia back down with him. "Nobody important."

* * *

In the back seat of the jeep, Montley couldn't keep his rifle steady enough to ensure a hit. That didn't stop him from firing. Driving a half circle through the square, the vehicle moved all the way around the burning tank before coming to a halt at the other end of the open space. The semicircle had been enough for the driver to identify which side controlled what end of the square. He wasn't Militia, but he did a damn fine job. If only the Army's high command was as competent as its enlisted men and junior officers.

When the world stopped moving around him, Montley actually started to aim his rifle before firing. Using the top of the vehicles door for support, he was able to keep his weapon steady as it kicked back. From the sound of things around him the other troopers in the car had the same idea. He could hear Rosie's Mags going off in the front passenger seat, and the .30 caliber machinegun mounted on the jeep that Yoko was standing behind burst into life to his rear. With the convoy of other vehicles behind them the new parade of blue uniforms in the square must have looked like a firing squad. Though they'd been well dug in, Montley hadn't seen a large force of Imperial infantry when they'd entered the square. With the addition of the tanks, the jeeps, and the men, the Imperials looked to be outnumbered and outgunned. They were also better trained though, and it didn't take long for a Militia grunt to learn that a small unit of Imperials – even outnumbered as such – wasn't a force to let your guard down against. A heavy ping on his jeep door reminded him of that lesson.

Still, the sheer amount of gunfire the Gallians were putting downfield didn't leave a lot of room for the Imps to expose themselves, and if they weren't exposing themselves Montley didn't have a target to shoot at – except for that one dirty Imp bastard who had his head sticking out. Fool wasn't ever going to know what hit him. Lining the man's helmet up in his sight picture, Montley placed his finger on his rifle's trigger and–"

"Hey, hey, hey! Check your fire!"

Montley turned his head towards the woman who'd called out. Something had Rosie upset. He was sure the man he was aiming at was Imperial though. While Montley jumped the gun on many things, target identification wasn't one of them. "What's the hold up?"

Rosie didn't need to answer. As soon as the words had left his mouth he watched in awe as one of the other jeeps in the convoy rolled to a stop right ahead of them. The man he'd been aiming at just moments before was now obstructed behind a friendly vehicle. "You've gotta' be kidding me," Rosie said as she dropped the barrel of her Mags to the ground in front of them. "Martens, do you have a shot?"

"No," the woman answered. "If I open fire now I'll end up clipping one of them."

Rosie let out an irritated sigh. Montley could respect the tone of it. He felt very much the same way. "Can we move?" Rosie asked turning towards the driver.

"No, ma'am," he replied. "We're boxed in."

Montley took a look behind them. The line of jeeps stretched most of the way across the square. A full platoon from the Army had accompanied what remained of Squad 7 along for the trip. What remained of Squad 7 boiled down to Rosie's section, Juno, and the senior NCOs. Still, while the Army lieutenant technically had seniority over Lieutenant Gunther, he was amicable enough to cede operational control over to the tank commander for this skirmish under the condition that he be allowed to relieve the man of command should his judgment needlesly endanger any of his soldiers. They were rescuing Welkin's men, after all.

The long line of troops didn't leave them any room to back up though, and the wall in front of their vehicle kept them from moving forward into a new firing position. Either the other jeep would move or they'd be stuck waiting on the sidelines for the fight to end. "Leonard," Rosie called out. Montley looked up at the sound of his name. Maybe they would _finally _get moving. "Go see what the Hell those guys think they're doing."

"You don't have to ask me twice," he said. Before he'd finished he was already hopping over the side of the jeep's door. Landing at a run, it only took him a couple of strides to reach the other vehicle. Vyse was firing the mounted weapon, and Sergeant Coren sat in the front passenger seat. She didn't look particularly pleased about their placement. "Hey," Montley said as he came to a stop next to the driver's door, "What are you guys doing?"

He could hear Juno mumble something, but he couldn't attribute any actual words to her over the gunfire. "We're out of room," the driver yelled next to her.

"What do you mean you're out of room?"

"I mean there's nowhere else to park. We couldn't get a shot back in the rear so we moved on, but we ended up rolling in front of the convoy."

Montley looked back. The line of jeeps stretched all the way across the square. There wouldn't be any room for the extra jeep to pull out. "Well you're in our field of fire. Back up."

Lifting his hands off of the steering wheel, the driver shook his head. "No can do. Can't back up without jumping in front of every other jeep in the convoy. We're stuck, mate."

"Great, of all the things to…" As he rolled his eyes, Montley caught sight of the figure in the rear left passenger seat of the vehicle. He had to look twice to confirm what he was looking at. The figure wasn't wearing the standard blue Milita utilities or Army BDU. Instead she wore a brown helmet and flak jacket over civilian clothes, and she looked absolutely terrified. "You guys brought the reporter?" he asked incredulously.

"She insisted we didn't leave her behind," Juno said. Turning her head, she added a glare that was clearly aimed at the driver. "We didn't expect to be out front."

With a loud thud and a whoosh of air, the jeep sagged forward on its front right tire. The blowout was followed by three light pings on the vehicles siding. With each impact, Ellet's head jerked down. Eyes wide, she clung tightly to her notebook and didn't take her vision off of the back of the driver's headrest.

It was a sad sight, but there wasn't anything that could be done about it now. The jeep wasn't going to be moving anywhere either. They'd just have to deal with the situation as it had been laid out. Turning away, Montley began to run back to his own vehicle. He was surprised to see that he wasn't the only one moving towards the jeep, and the other person hadn't been with the group when it had set out. He reached his destination at the same time Marina did.

Clearly winded, the woman took a knee next to the driver's door of the vehicle. With only her head above the siding she looked over the man in front of the steering wheel and addressed Rosie on the other side. "Where the fuck have you guys been all day?"

Although Montley had thought that Rosie seemed happy when she'd heard they were going to pick up their lost unit, she didn't seem too pleased at the woman keeling on the other side of the door. "Yeah," she said sarcastically, "you're welcome." When Marina didn't reply she continued on. "Are you all out here?"

"No," Marina answered. "We've got wounded inside and another group on the other side of the building." Leaning her head out away from the vehicle, Marina took a quick glance down the line of jeeps. "Where's the Top?"

"Should be four down the line," Rosie replied.

Marina merely nodded before setting out. That suited Montley just fine. The woman gave him the creeps. Before he could watch her for long, Rosie tapped him on the shoulder. "What did they say about moving out of our way?"

"Nothing. They're boxed in."

Grimacing, Rosie let out a low growl. Her frustration only lasted a minute though. Looking back at the jeep directly behind her, she waved to the man in the passenger seat. It took him a moment, but her assistant section leader caught sight of her. Once she had his attention, she called him over. "We're not just going to sit and wait here then," she said to Montley before the man arrived. That sounded good to him. It had to be better than sitting on his ass doing nothing.

When the man she'd waved over arrived, he took a knee at the position Marina had occupied before him. He took up quite a bit more space than she had. "Walker," Rosie said addressing the man, "we've got friendlies stranded on the other side of that building. Take a group in and lend a hand."

"You got it, hon," Jann said with a smile. Looking into the back seat, he saw Montley waiting with the butt of his rifle on the floor of the jeep between his knees. "You want in on this one, Monty?"

"You really even have to ask?"

"No," Jann said. If he'd been smiling before, Montley didn't know what to call the expression that spread across the man's face now. "I guess I don't." Taking a step back away from the vehicle, he waved back over to the Militiamen that had been in his own jeep. As they hopped out and began their jaunt over to his position, he put his hand on the foregrip of his shotgun and looked towards the building. "Alrighty," he said as Montley and Yoko stepped off next to him. "Let's go."

* * *

Jann didn't move towards the building right away though. He had a nagging feeling that he was missing something. Replaying the last few moments through his head, he tried to pick out the details that didn't seem to fit. Rosie was speaking too quickly again. He'd learned to decipher everything she said as it blurred together though, so that wasn't a pressing issue at the moment. Nobody from her vehicle had been firing, but that made sense as another jeep had pulled out in front of them. That was out of the ordinary, but he'd already known about that. It was the figure in the back seat of the other vehicle that didn't seem to fit. Physically looking to see what had put him off, he spied Ellet hunched over in the back of the jeep. Chuckling a little, he shook his head at the sight.

"Are we moving?" a young woman's voice asked next to him.

The voice pulled Jann out of his thoughts. Turning, he saw that Aika and Alex had already joined them at the lead jeep. His group was assembled. All there was to do now was to move forward into the building. Jann couldn't leave things here as they were though. Somebody needed to fix the situation, and he decided that he was just the man to do it. "You guys go on ahead," he said to the group in front of him. "Wait for me inside. I've got a quick errand to run."

With a curious look, the group hesitated a moment before setting off. Throwing in another smile seemed to reassure them though, and within moments they were on their way to the door. Jann was moving in the complete opposite direction. Running forward, he came to a stop next to where Ellet sat motionless in her seat. She wasn't going to be moving anywhere on her own anytime soon. "Ma'am," he said as lightly as he could while still being audible over the gunfire. The woman turned her head towards his voice, but she didn't say anything. "Ma'am, would you like to come with me? It'll be safer inside."

Shaken, Ellet stumbled for words. Jann had never seen her without something to say before. "Uh… yeah," she finally uttered. "You'll lead the way?"

Opening the jeep's door for her, Jann took Ellet's hand and helped her out of the vehicle. "Yes, ma'am. Just leave everything to me and it'll all end up dandy." As he led her away from the jeep, he could hear glass shattering behind him. Keeping Ellet's attention on their destination, he made sure that she didn't look back. She'd fall back into her senses quicker if she left the fight behind her. Reaching the doorway, he pushed her through first and followed in second.

There wasn't anything of note in the entryway, but the next room attached was full of people. With a closer look, he could see that most of them were wounded. At least six casualties filled the open spaces in the room, and Mina was doing the best she could to keep all of them comfortable. Audrey held most of her attention though. Standing out of the way, the three Militiamen he'd sent in ahead of him waited for his order to move on. "Plan?" Alex asked, trying to keep his eyes off of the medic on the floor.

"There are still Imps on the other side," Jann said. "You four go on and see what you can do to help deal with them." Obediently – and almost eagerly – the small group pushed on through the doorway and out of the aid station. Jann couldn't blame them for their swift departure. With only a quick glance he could see Cherry lying on her stomach with Ramona – who looked a mess herself with the tangle of bandages covering nearly the entirety of her face – plugging a bloody hole in her bottom. Susie looked to have a couple of holes in her herself, and Herbert lay on his back with a large bandage wrapped around his shoulder. The scene was heartbreaking, and he hadn't even taken a closer look at Hannes, let alone Audrey. "Is there anything we can do here to help?" he asked Mina.

"Not much you can really do at the moment," she said.

"Nothing at all?" Ellet asked. While she'd been helpless outside, the reporter seemed to have come back to her senses within the building. In fact, she seemed more in control of herself here than anybody else who'd walked in. The woman might not have been accustomed to bullets flying past her, but she had a constitution of iron.

"Not really, I've got my hands full, but there's nothing that–"

"Ellet?" The voice from the floor was weak. Jann had to strain his ears to make it out. Audrey's words came slowly, and the labored syllables faded in and out. The gaps had to be filled in. "What are you doing here?"

The question clearly caught her off guard. Though she'd been in control again a moment before, she couldn't do anything but look to Jann for help. Raising his eyebrows, Jann shook his head. He had no idea either.

"Uh... well…" For the second time ever, Jann saw Ellet struggling for words. This stumbling block only took her a moment to navigate though. After looking around briefly for an idea, she knelt next to the girl, took her hand, and smiled. "I just came to get an interview with the newest rising star of Squad 7."

Audrey's eyes didn't change expression, but there was something distinctly different about them. "You mean… me?"

"Of course," Ellet said. Reaching into her pocket she pulled out her pen and opened her notebook. "You know, the Lieutenant's been talking about you all day. I couldn't get him to shut up. There I was trying to get the latest scoop and all he could babble on about was, 'Audrey this,' or 'Heitinga that.' I don't think I could have stuck with the Squad if you'd been missing any longer. I wouldn't get any story other than 'We've got to go find Audrey.'"

"Really?"

"Absolutely," Ellet said smiling. Cautiously, she looked from side to side, exaggerating the movement so that the girl on the floor couldn't possibly miss it. "Don't tell anyone," she said lowering her voice slightly, "but I think Alicia was getting jealous."

A look of utter awe – or at least as much awe as she could physically manage – struck Audrey's face. "The Top… was jealous? Of me?"

"She was furious."

If he hadn't been looking for it, Jann wouldn't have seen the small smile that graced the girl's lips. Whatever happened, she was in good hands. Turning away, Jann looked towards the back door of the room. The firefight was taking place beyond the door, but his heart wouldn't let his feet carry him out just yet, and he knew that if he ignored its pleas he'd pay for it later. Instead of walking through the door, he stopped and took a knee next to where Ramona and Cherry were stationed. If he played his cards right he could get them both in one fell swoop. "You doing alright here?" he asked innocently.

"Is that you, Jann?" Ramona asked. He'd seen that the bandages had been covering her eyes, and he'd been counting on her not seeing him coming.

"Sure is, Aika."

There was a long pause. The only indication of the woman's confusion was the slight tilt of her head. "What?"

"I said, 'Sure is.'"

"No, the part after that."

This time, Jann feigned confusion. "What part?"

"I'm not Aika."

"Oh," Jann said with a hearty laugh. "Sorry about that, Dorothy."

"Dorothy and I don't even share the same hair color."

"Ramsey?"

Slowly, Ramona's head tilted further and further. After a moment, she shook it and aimed it down towards her hands. "Look, I'm really not in the mood for–"

"Claudia?"

"I said I'm not–"

"Rosina?"

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Ramona brought one of her hands off of Cherry's compress and scratched her head. "Jann, please–"

"Nadine?"

"No," Ramona said forcefully, "I'm–"

"Oh, that's right!" Jann exclaimed interrupting her. "A redhead. You're Rosie the Riveter!"

Ramona stopped everything she was doing for a moment. Once again, her head swung to one side. Jann didn't need to see through the bandages to be able to picture the face that must have been hidden under them. For a long while, she didn't move, but after a few moments of absolute stillness and silence, she broke into a light chuckle. "Ok… That one was a bit funny."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Ramona admitted, "but Rosie isn't a redhead. She's just got a red bandana."

"Really?" Jann could have sworn he'd seen a redhead on the posters. He hadn't paid much attention to the woman though, so it could just as easily have been a bandana instead of hair. "Well it was still at least a little funny, right?"

"Yeah," she said bobbing her head. "A little bit."

"That's all I ask for." One down. One to go. "I _am _sorry if I put you off before though. I was just joking. I've known you were Cherry all along."

"No!" a whiny voice called up from the floor. "_I'm _Cherry!"

As Ramona burst out into a full laugh, Jann acted out the most surprised face he could muster and let his gaze finally fall on the girl. "Well I'll… Cherry!" he cried. "How long have you been lying there?"

"I've been here the _whole time_."

Changing his face again, Jann looked at her as if he couldn't understand what he was seeing. "Well what are you doing on the floor?"

Sniffling, Cherry's eyes glossed over. Jann could see her lips quivering as she talked. "They _shot _me, Jann!"

"What?" He exclaimed. "Now why would they go and do a thing like that?"

"Because they're _bastards_."

Ramona was nearly rolling on the floor. It took Jann everything he had not to join her. "They'd have to be," Jann agreed. "It doesn't hurt, does it?"

"They gave me some Ragnaid," she said between sniffles, "but it still hurts a little…"

Jann merely shook his head. "Well," he said, "we can't have that." Reaching his hand into his pockets he began to search through them. "Doctor Jann's got just the trick for you."

"Is it more Ragnaid?"

"No." Rummaging through his uniform, he searched blindly for what he was looking for.

"Well, what is it?"

"Give me just a second, sweetie."

Cherry didn't give him any more than just that. "Please?"

"I said hold on for one–"

"But I have to know!"

Still empty handed, Jann stopped his search to address the girl's concerns. "Hey, keep your pants on for a minute and–" He stopped himself before finishing the sentence. Looking down, he could see Cherry's pants pulled down past her bottom. Ramona was still tending to the wound on her left cheek. "Well," he corrected himself, "just hang on for a little bit and I'll show you."

Cherry continued to pout, but she didn't interrupt him again. After reaching into his final pocket, his hand grasped the object he'd been looking for. "Ah," he said pulling it out. "Here we are."

Cherry's eyes widened as Jann let her catch a glimpse of what he'd pulled out. "But that's…"

"Don't worry, it's strawberry," he said as he handed the small, hard piece of red candy over to her. "I know how much you hate cherry…"

The girl didn't hesitate to pull off the wrapper and pop the candy into her mouth. The younger members of the Squad ran through their candy rations like they were going out of style. Jann always kept his in reserve in case of emergency. "Any good?" he asked.

"It's _delicious_," Cherry said. Her eyes were still wet, but her smile put Jann at ease. The candy would keep her happy until Mina could get to her.

"Good." Shooting her a smile in return, Jann prepared to set out himself. "But seriously, you ladies are doing alright?" he asked before he left.

"Yuppers," Cherry said. She looked genuinely happy with the candy in her mouth. It was amazing what the little things could do in a situation like this.

Jann waited a moment for a second response. "Linton?" Looking over, he could see the woman still putting pressure on her friend's wound. Her face was intently pointed towards where her hands were working. A few moments before Ramona had been laughing, but now she wasn't responding to his call. "Hey Linton, you doing alright there, honey?"

Her face turned slowly towards his voice. It paused on him for a moment before the woman shook her head, bringing herself back into the moment. "Oh," she said absently. Clearing her throat, Ramona brought back signature cheery tone. "Yeah. Yeah, I've got Cherry covered. We're all good." The head held its position for a second before turning back towards the woman's hands. Jann couldn't put a face to it this time. Didn't matter now. He had business to take care of himself.

Standing up, he made his way through the doorway and towards the building's exit. The entryway was empty. Moving next to the door, he took a look out of the open frame before stepping out. What he saw put another smile on his face. His unit had linked up with another small group of Militiamen, and the team of blue uniforms ceased their fire as an armored figure retreated around the bend of the road ahead. After the Imp had fled out of sight the gunfire stopped. Their victory made him a proud man. They didn't need little ol' Jann Walker to win a firefight. Stepping out into the open air, Jann set about gathering his troops and securing the road his men had taken without him.

* * *

As soon as the first group of Imperials had thrown down their arms, the rest had quickly followed. It seemed they didn't want to die any more than anybody else. Marina wasn't particularly surprised. She hadn't seen any black bands through her scope. They'd all been regulars. That didn't somehow make anybody less injured though, and it had still been a brutal fight. Behind her wall once again, she slumped down until she hit the ground. Sitting, she rested her Mags against the stones next to her and let her head fall back.

Ted and Claudia had linked back up with the rest of the Squad, and she was glad for her brief moment out of sight. She had a feeling that that was going to change _very _soon. Herbert still lay in the aid station with a round in his shoulder that she was responsible for, and Varrot would certainly have a thing or twenty to say about that. Though it would probably be trying for the next few days, Marina preferred to look on the bright side. Who knew? She might even get lucky and find herself booted back down to private. That would be nice.

Her brief moment of hope was cut short when she realized her hand was still shaking. It hadn't completely settled since she'd shot Herbert. Even past Varrot, the incident was sure to bring complications with it. Being a social pariah was one thing, but being untrustworthy was something completely different, and if the other members of the Squad couldn't trust her with a gun in her hands there were going to be problems. Oh well. Nothing to do about that for the time being. She'd tackle those issues as they came.

Closing her eyes, Marina took in the sounds of the square. The gunfire had stopped, but the area was still bustling with activity. The surrendering Imperials and the victorious Gallians filled the air with noise, and Marina let it fade into the background. She'd zoned it out enough that she almost didn't hear the soft footsteps moving closer until they were nearly on top of her.

Opening her eyes, she looked up for the face that was drawing nearer. Her line of sight was high by a number of feet. Slowly, she let her eyes fall on the owner of the footsteps. If she had been in the mood, she would have smiled. She wasn't. Instead, she merely nodded her head and reached out her arm, patting the bomb dog on the head before edging back to scratch behind his ears. "Yeah," she said quietly. "There's a good boy."

* * *

Next Engagement: Letters


	32. Letters

**Engagement 32: Letters**

The bouncing and shaking of the jeep as it rolled over the debris and ruins in the street in front of it sent a shooting pain up the man's back, but he didn't notice. In fact, he was almost completely oblivious to the world around him. Everything he wasn't directly focused on disappeared and faded out in a blur. The only thing that kept his attention was the outline of a person pressing itself against the edges of the body bag behind him. For the second time in Coby's life the world had been torn out from under him.

He couldn't make out any details – the black plastic material covering the body completely concealed it from view – but Coby could clearly picture Catherine's face staring back up at him. It wasn't what he wanted to see. He wanted to see her sitting next to him. Wanted to see her smile. A _real _smile. Coby doubted he'd have gotten to see one of those even if she had still been alive. He hadn't seen more than a handful of those from the woman in the past twenty years.

Letting the drone of the jeep's engine and the bumps in the road fade into the background, Coby focused on trying to tear his eyes off of the body bag behind him. He didn't want to look at it. The very thought of it being there hurt him more than his back ever could have. Even his own body fought to turn him around. In order to look at Catherine he had to twist backwards in his seat, and the torque sent waves of pain through his aching and broken body. No matter how hard his body and mind protested, though, Coby couldn't look away. A small part of him didn't want to.

Something must have been done right. The woman sitting next to him was a testament to that. With her rifle between her knees, Claudia sat with bloodshot eyes, keeping her vision off of the body behind her. Coby couldn't blame her, and he wished he had the willpower to look away himself. She was still alive. Though half of their numbers had been bloodied and wounded, most of the rest of the platoon was alive as well. Still, for everything that they had done right something else had been done wrong, and because of those missteps two of them weren't going home. Somewhere along the line somebody had dropped the ball. Catherine was dead.

"You served with her in the first war, didn't you?"

Claudia's voice turned out to be the distraction he'd been looking for. Turning his head, Coby locked eyes with the woman next to him. Tears stained her cheeks, and one of the ties that she'd used to keep her hair pulled up had torn, spilling the hair over onto her shoulder. She looked a mess. Everyone had looked a mess. It was better than looking at the body bag. "Yeah," he said weakly. "Yeah, I did. That was…" She was looking at him expectantly. Coby realized the conversation wasn't just keeping his own mind off of the jeep's cargo. "That was a long time ago." Twenty years, to be exact. Not nearly long enough.

Looking away, Claudia nodded. Though she'd made a good distraction, Coby was glad she'd diverted her own attention. It was tough maintaining eye contact. "So," she started again without looking back, "you two were really close, right?"

What to say? She was a daughter? She wasn't – at least not physically. It almost felt as if he'd known Catherine her whole life, but he hadn't met her until she'd picked up her rifle and jumped into his trench at fifteen. He'd never seen her as a baby. Never watched her as she left for school. He'd never changed her diapers, and he wasn't there to hear her first words. Then again, he also hadn't been there to hear her last.

Coby hadn't heard his own daughter's last words either, and he _had _known _her _for her entire life. He'd had done all of the above for her, but she'd still fallen just as dead as Catherine. The two women he'd loved most in the world were now gone. Catherine had never been his daughter, but somehow the pain was still the same. This time he didn't have anyone to share it with. "We were…" Struggling to answer Claudia's question, Coby searched for the right words to describe their relationship. Catherine was the best friend Coby had ever had. She hadn't been his daughter, but in a way she almost acted as a surrogate. It was close enough. In return, Coby had become the best friend Catherine had ever had. Unfortunately, with Catherine the word 'close' didn't exactly describe the manner in which she held her friends – even those as 'close' to her as Coby. "We were good friends," he concluded. It sounded a bit flat, even to his own ears.

The other woman didn't seem to mind though. Nodding again, she made the briefest eye contact possible before turning her head back towards the passing buildings. "Well, I'm really sorry," she said.

"Yeah." With Claudia excusing herself from the conversation, Coby no longer had anything to keep his mind off of the body behind him. Involuntarily, his head turned back towards the rear of the jeep. He tried to fight the movement at first, but after his body began its slow twist he gave in and let his eyes find their way to his friend. Though the eyes saw a black bag, his mind saw a face. It was wandering again. "So am I."

* * *

Catherine's familiar blue truck was still in the driveway when Coby rounded the bend and saw the woman's house come into view. That was a good sign. He wasn't quite sure he'd made it in time. The fact that the vehicle was still parked and unloaded told him that he had. Catherine hadn't returned any of his recent letters, and Coby had worried she'd already left. The woman was probably expecting him to drop by sometime soon, but she must not have expected him this early. She probably would have already left if she had.

Parking his car next to Catherine's truck, Coby stepped out onto the gravel driveway and took a look around. Not much had changed since his last visit. The small house at the center of the small clearing was surrounded by trees, and there wasn't another house in sight. In fact, he'd had to drive fifteen minutes out of town in order to find the place. It suited Catherine well – a little too well for Coby's tastes. He had to admire the craftsmanship of the building itself though. It was small, but sturdy and well constructed. Perfect for its single occupant. Coby wished he'd never built it.

The old man paused for a moment as he walked up to the door. He had a feeling that it was going to be an uncomfortable visit, but it was one he was going to have to make. Catherine probably wasn't going to be too happy about his dropping in unannounced. Coby didn't mind. If she'd wanted to prevent a surprise visit she should have answered back. He'd practically begged the woman to get a telephone, but she'd refused. Letters must have been easier for her to ignore.

Unsurprisingly, Catherine turned out to be very adept at ignoring doorbells as well. After three rings, Coby tried knocking. He already knew it wouldn't do him any good. She'd probably seen his car rolling up her driveway and locked the doors before he'd even come to a stop. Didn't matter. He owed her a visit one way or another, and whether she wanted it or not she was going to get what he owed her. Even if she wouldn't let him in herself the old codger had a trick or two up his sleeve – or more specifically in his pocket.

Coby pulled the small key out of his jacket as he walked around the side of the house and into the back yard. The back lawn was empty other than a single clothesline that ran across the yard and a small hunting blind that sat near the edge of the forest. The grass hadn't been mowed in some time. Coby didn't dwell on that for long. He wasn't there to get on her case about how she treated the property.

Stepping up to the back door, he brought the key up to the lock and tried to push it in. It didn't fit. Carefully, Coby took a moment to examine the lock. It wasn't the one he'd put in when he'd built the place. Catherine must have changed the locks since his last visit. Clever woman. Still, if her aim had been to drive the man away then Coby was slightly offended. She should have known that the lock wouldn't stop him, and he was disappointed that that was the only measure the woman seemed to have taken to keep the man out. He may have been getting old, but he wasn't that old. At least not yet.

Checking the lock one more time, Coby took a step back. He wasn't as strong as he once was, but the door was starting to wear, and the back frame had always been made weaker than the front. If she had a problem with him busting through her door she shouldn't have gotten a new lock. He could always replace it later. The only worry Coby had was that Catherine may actually not have seen him. She always liked to keep a loaded handgun somewhere in the house – another issue Coby meant to bring up with the woman when he got the chance – and he knew she'd be more than willing to pull it on somebody breaking in through her back door. He felt he was relatively safe though. If she hadn't seen him drive up she would certainly have heard him ringing the bell and knocking.

It took three hits to crack the door open. Coby's back strained through the process, but once he'd finished he found that he hadn't overworked it. Swinging the door out of his way he stepped through and into the back entryway. He found himself in a small room. The floor wasn't carpeted, and it seemed to serve as a tiny storage area. Whatever boxes that were stacked in there hadn't been unpacked. He recognized some of them from when he'd helped her move in fifteen years before. "Catherine?" he called out into the house. Whether she'd seen him or not, he didn't want to mess around with walking in further unannounced. The fact that she hadn't had a gun aimed at him the moment he'd bust his way through the door was a good sign, but he wasn't one for pushing his luck. "You in there Catherine?"

"What's your wife going to say when she finds out you're sneaking through the back door into a younger woman's home, Coby?" Catherine's voice called back. Within seconds her figure popped around the next doorframe. She was smiling. Coby knew it was an act.

"Well," he joked, "I suppose she'd ask me to invite you over for supper."

Raising her eyebrow Catherine gave a playful grimace. "Well then I guess I'd have to decline. I don't think she likes me very much."

It was true. She didn't. Coby's wife may not have understood their relationship, but it seemed she was more than willing to indulge her husband's attachment to the woman. It made the man happy, and whatever kept him going was good for her. At a very base level she must have seen how Catherine helped fill the void left by their daughter. "You know, she might like you better if you actually showed your face every once in a while."

"Maybe she might," Catherine replied. Stepping out of the doorway she waved the man inside. "I suppose if you're going to break down my door a simple 'get out' won't dissuade you from making yourself at home. Come on. I'll make you some tea."

"Sounds nice." Leaving the storage area, Coby walked through the door and into the living room beyond. It was just as he remembered it. The room was very small for a living room, but that suited Catherine well. He imagined that he was the only guest she really ever brought over. Whoever had changed her locks had probably been the only other person to come down her driveway in the past couple of years. He'd have to work on that. There were a couple of apprentices currently under him about her age. Coby didn't doubt she'd have nothing to do with them, but it was always worth a shot. Maybe one of them would get lucky. If he was successful today he'd be sure to bring one of them along his next visit.

Smirking to himself, Coby plopped down onto the room's couch. Other than that particular piece of furniture, the room was empty save for a single chair and a small lamp stand. The walls were bare – there wasn't a single picture up in the entire house, if his memory served him well – but every couple of feet there was another small, unpacked package. For somebody who didn't seem to want any of her stuff, Catherine must have had a hard time throwing it all away. Not all of it had been from before she moved into the house, though. Coby recognized one or two of the brown parcels as little gifts he'd sent her himself over the years. He didn't mind that they'd never been opened. What was inside wouldn't have mattered to the woman in the first place – it was the actual act of receiving something that he wanted her to experience; to know there was still somebody out there willing to send her something. Opened or not, he was glad she'd kept everything.

"So," Catherine started cautiously from the other room, "What brings you around here? Isn't it a bit out of your way?"

"It's not that far." Coby hadn't lied. The drive was long enough that he'd had to devote a clear day to making it, but it wasn't so far that he'd have to find a place to spend the night. "I had a free day and I thought I'd check up on you. It's been a while since I've heard from you."

"Sorry about that, the letters must have gotten lost in the mail."

"You know, if you just got a telephone you wouldn't have to worry about things like that."

Walking back into the room, Catherine sat down in the single chair. She was wearing a light jacket over the white shirt under it. He must have caught her just as she was leaving. Coby couldn't be sure of where she was going, but he had a pretty good idea, and he didn't like it. "I'll look into it," she said. Tapping the chair's arm rest with her fingers, Catherine took a long look at her old friend. "So that's it? Just checking up on me?"

She was suspicious. Watching his words, Coby tried to tell the truth as vaguely as possible. "That's right. Just seeing what you were up to."

"And you just figured you'd do that today?"

"I had the extra time, so I figured I'd swing by."

Catherine nodded. "Ah, I see. So this has nothing to do with any current events?"

Cringing slightly, Coby hoped he'd been able to hide most of his reaction. He was pretty sure that he'd failed. It didn't matter. She'd probably known the reason for his visit before he'd even decided he was coming. "I don't follow."

"The border skirmish two days ago up north. Your visit has nothing to do with that?"

No point in trying to pretend now. She was too smart for that. "So you've heard?"

"Yeah," she said. "I heard."

Two days earlier a small unit of Imperial troops had been caught moving through Gallian territory. There was a small scuffle between the soldiers and a Militia group in the area. Neither side suffered any casualties, but everyone knew it was a sign of things to come. The Imperial Alliance had been amassing troops at the border for the past month and a half. Coby had hoped that since she'd done such a thorough job of isolating herself that Catherine might not have heard the news yet, but he should have known better. She watched current events like a hawk. "So?"

"If we're not at war by mid-February we'll be at war by mid-March. Either way, it's coming."

Shifting in his seat, Coby sighed. "I meant about you."

"What about me?" Catherine wasn't smiling anymore. At least she was being honest.

"You wanted to know why I came?"

"I think I already know why you came, Coby," she said flatly.

"Well I came to make sure you weren't going to do anything stupid. We've worked too hard for that."

Leaning forward, Catherine rested her elbow on her knee and her chin on her hand. Her expression had softened, but she wasn't looking at Coby anymore. Instead she stared off into one of the blank spots on the wall. Coby didn't think what she saw on the wall matched the images that were running through her head. "Have we?"

"You're damn right we have," Coby said. "Twenty years and we're still here. That has to amount to something, right? Yeah, you took a couple of steps back along the way, but you're here now. I came to make sure you didn't mess that up."

With a light chuckle Catherine dropped her forehead into her palm. She rested it there for a moment before standing. "Well you're late," she said without looking at the man sitting in the couch across from her. "I reenlisted yesterday." Walking, she moved towards the door and disappeared into the bedroom behind her. "You can't stop me now."

It took a minute for her words to register. He'd expected as much from the woman, but not this early in the game. Coby was sure that if he'd caught her before the war actually began he'd be able to talk her out of signing up. At the very least he thought he'd have a few more days before the woman had disappeared again for the remaining time before a formal declaration of hostilities. If she'd signed up already she must have been further down the hole than he'd thought. Looking up he could see into Catherine's bedroom. He couldn't see her around the frame. "Catherine, what are you doing?"

"I'm packing," she called back. "I've got a lot of stuff to put together before I leave."

"I mean with your life, Cathy."

There was a long pause before he got a response. Even the sound of the woman packing stopped. "You're not my father, Coby. I'm a grown woman and I'll do with my life as I please. Our country's going to war. They're going to need experienced troops at the front. People who actually know what they're doing."

Coby still couldn't move, but the realization was already setting in. He'd been too late. He'd always been too late. "So what is this, your third reenlistment?"

"That's right."

She worked in cycles. For a while Coby would get her letters and everything would be alright. Then they would start to drop off, and one day he'd receive a letter stating that she'd joined the Militia again. A few years later he'd receive another letter saying that the military life was no way to live, and she'd move back into the house he'd made her. Catherine spent just under half of her life since the war ended in the service of the Militia. "So that's it, then, huh? You're going to settle on being 'Sergeant' for the rest of your life?"

"Actually it's 'Staff Sergeant' now," the woman said. "I'm moving up in the world."

Coby shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Sounds more like a regression to me."

After a moment's wait the sound of the woman's packing resumed. With a deep breath Coby stood up and walked over to the door. Catherine's large duffle bag sat open on her bed, and the woman pulled whatever possessions she intended to bring along with her out of her drawers and threw them haphazardly inside. There couldn't have been much. Catherine didn't seem to keep a whole lot in the way of personal items that she treasured to begin with, and the Militia would supply her with nearly everything she could ever absolutely need. Still, she stood and packed, going through each drawer twice before closing it and moving on to the next. "Catherine," he said, "I thought you promised me."

"Oh no," Catherine replied with a harsh laugh as she moved from her dresser to her nightstand. "I never promised anything. I said I'd try."

"Yeah? Well I don't see a whole lot of that going on here either."

"That was twenty years ago, Coby." Tossing what she'd pulled out of her nightstand into the duffel bag, Catherine didn't bother to shut the drawer before tying the large sack shut and carrying it back into the living room. "You caught me at a bad time and I didn't know any better."

"It doesn't seem to me like you know much more now."

Catherine ignored him. Moving to follow her out of the bedroom, Coby stopped in his tracks when the still opened nightstand caught his eye. Walking over to it, he took a brief glance inside. Nothing immediately jumped out at him, but something at the back of his mind told him to shuffle through it. Making sure that she wasn't looking, Coby brushed the top layer of junk aside. He was about to abandon his search when a slight hint of gold caught his eye. The metal was scratched and dented, but he was sure of what he saw. A Gallian Medal of Honor. It should have been framed and hung on the wall, not thrown into a junk drawer. Shaking his head, Coby shut the nightstand and walked back into the living room.

Having tossed her duffle bag onto the couch, Catherine stood looking towards the rear entryway of the house. Leaning against the doorframe of her bedroom, Coby watched her for a moment. She didn't seem to be looking for anything more to pack, but she didn't look quite ready to leave yet. Too late. She'd have to go. No turning back now. Coby wondered if part of her regretted it. He decided that a large part of her did – if not most of her. He also knew that even if she'd completely hated everything the Militia stood for and represented she'd have reenlisted anyway. It was a delusion to think that he could have ever talked her out of it, mistake or not. He couldn't just leave her like this, though. Catherine might have looked like a grown woman, but he knew better than anyone that she'd never actually grown up. She was no better than a little kid. Somebody had to look after her, and already a plot was forming within his mind. He just hoped his wife would forgive him. "Have you been assigned a unit yet?" Coby softened as voice as much as he could. He would have to sound resigned if this was going to work.

"Yeah," she said. "I have it written down on a piece of paper pinned up on the refrigerator. Feel free to take it if you want to know where to write. I know where I'm going."

"You hear anything about it?"

Catherine shook her head. "Not really. There are a few vets, but it's mostly a bunch of kids that either thought it would be cool to play soldier or don't have anywhere else to go. It's all volunteer at the moment, but…" She dropped her head slightly before she finished. "That's probably not going to hold."

Coby understood what she'd meant. If this war were anything like the last it wouldn't be likely that they'd be able to replace the kids as fast as they were thrown into the grinder. Sooner or later every unit would have to take draftees. "Yeah… I guess not." Either way, Coby had gotten everything he'd needed from the woman.

Turning around, Catherine locked eyes with her old friend. She was unable to hide the regret in her eyes this time, and Coby could tell she was hurting. He couldn't tell exactly what that regret was for, but he imagined more than a couple of sources. "Hey Coby," she said quietly, "the water should be ready by now. How about you go pour us some of that tea?"

Feeling a lump form in the back of his throat, Coby nodded. "You uh…" He had to stop to swallow. "You still take that with sugar?"

Smiling, she returned the nod. It was a sad smile, but it was genuine. "Have for all these years."

"Well, then," Coby said dusting off his pants. "I'll go get us some cups." He shot her a smile of his own before walking into the kitchen. Glancing towards the refrigerator door, Coby could see the paper that Catherine had told him about. He didn't stop to read it though. There would be plenty of time for that later. Instead, he walked over to the cupboard and looked for the cups. They were exactly where he'd remembered them. Reaching into the cabinet, he pulled out a single mug. He'd only be needing one. As Catherine had predicted the water she'd set was boiling. Grabbing the small pot and moving over the sink, Coby carefully poured the steaming water into his cup. Catherine only had cheap teabags, but they would do him just fine. After letting it steep for a minute Coby pulled some honey out of the cupboard and mixed it in – just the way he liked it. When he was satisfied with the concoction he tossed the teabag into the trash and took a sip. It really was delicious. Smiling again, he left the kitchen and walked back into the living room.

As he'd predicted, Catherine's duffle bag was missing. He didn't have to check the storage room to know that the door was now wide open and that Catherine's truck wouldn't be in the driveway when he walked back around. Fair enough. She couldn't run forever. Setting his still half full mug on the lamp stand, Coby turned around and walked back into the kitchen.

With a quick swipe he pulled the piece of paper off of the refrigerator. He didn't bother to pick up the magnet that fell to the ground before looking at it. Squad 7. 3rd Battalion. 251st Infantry Regiment. 2nd Brigade. 29th Militia Infantry Division. Everything he needed.

If Catherine thought she could get off clean by sneaking out the back door she was sorely mistaken. Coby was too old to volunteer. She knew that. She didn't know he had old friends still in the service – friends who owed him favors. A call here, a dinner there… he could have his age hidden and his choice of deployment in a week. His wife would never forgive him, that was for sure, and his children would certainly have more than a couple of words for him, but he'd worry about that later. He'd already lost Colleen; he wasn't about to lose Catherine as well. As long as he was there he could make sure she was safe. He could watch over her. If he was always by her side she'd be alright. Of that he was sure. Leaving the kitchen, he folded the paper Catherine had given him, stuffed it into his pocket, and walked back to his car.

* * *

"Sir?"

Still dazed, Coby finally lifted his eyes off of the body bag long enough to take in his surroundings. The vehicle had come to a stop, and he found himself back in the square that his platoon had held for the better part of the day. In front of him, an Army private gave him a concerned look. The two men with him didn't look quite as invested, and they didn't lift their eyes from Catherine's bag. "Sir," the first private repeated again, "if it's alright we'll take that from here."

Coby almost didn't understand what the man had been referring to for a moment. It wasn't until he nodded in the body bag's direction that Coby fully understood. Feeling another lump form in his throat he took one last look. "Her," he said. "You mean to say you'll take _her _from here."

The two soldiers behind the first shared a glance. One of them shrugged. "Yes, sir," the first replied. "Of course. But if it's alright…"

Coby couldn't manage anything more than a dumb nod. Considering it the closest thing to clearance they were going to get, the two soldiers in the back stepped forward. Each grabbing an end of the bag, they counted to three and hoisted it out of the back of the jeep. Before Catherine's body had even settled between then they were on the move. Coby watched them go until they reached the lineup of other body bags across the square. At that point he forced himself to turn away. If he didn't see them lay her down he wouldn't be able to tell one bag from another. It would be easier that way.

Thankfully Claudia was still sitting next to him. Though the vehicle had been stopped for some time, she hadn't moved away from his side. Grateful for the woman's company, Coby did his best to smile at her. It didn't turn out well, but Claudia still didn't seem to mind. Instead she smiled back. At least there was still one dependable woman left in the platoon. "Mr. Caird," she said softly. The voice was just what the old man needed. "I know now's probably not the best time, but she had something for you."

"Hm?"

Reaching into her breast pocket, Claudia pulled out the two letters the platoon had pulled off of Catherine's body after she'd gone down. "Here. She had these letters on her when…" Claudia paused for a moment. "Well, she had these on her. One of them is addressed to you. They look pretty old. We don't know who the second man is. Figured you might want to hold on to them."

Grabbing the envelopes, Coby took a quick glance at the first. It was for him, and it was dated 1920. Whatever they were for she'd been holding on to them for a long time. Though he'd only looked over the one addressed to himself, he could tell the second was just as old, and he had a pretty good idea of where it was going. For a moment he debated opening his own and reading through it. One glance at Claudia told him that wasn't going to happen. At least not right now. There was no way he'd be able to make it the whole way through in one piece at the moment – if ever. "Thanks, kiddo."

Claudia nodded. "It's been a long day, and I think I need some sack time. I'm heading out. Are you going to be OK?"

"Yeah." Folding the envelopes at the already worn creases, Coby stuffed them into his own pocket. "Yeah, I'll be alright."

The woman looked him over for a moment before opening the jeep's door. "If uh… If you ever need anything…"

"I'll know where to look."

She gave another weak smile before finally sliding out of her seat and walking off. Coby's vision was immediately drawn to the now empty space behind him. Catherine wasn't there anymore, but that didn't seem to matter. It was the last place he'd known her to be, and that was close enough. One glance at the line of body bags across the way told him that his original hunch had been correct. He couldn't tell one from the next. Until he saw her in a casket, Catherine would always be lying in the back of that jeep. He had to get away from it.

Coby wasn't watching where he was going. As long as it was away from the jeep it didn't matter. No jeeps and no body bags. If those two conditions were met he'd be a happy man – or at least as close as possible to happy as he could manage under the circumstances.

Something had gone wrong. If it hadn't Catherine would still be alive. Somewhere along the line somebody had messed up. If Coby had been there everything would have been alright. He would have found a way to keep the woman safe. He should have known better, but any sense of reason the man had possessed was just as dead as the woman he'd considered his daughter. Finding a wall, Coby came to a stop and leaned forward against it. Resting his face in the crook of his elbow the world disappeared around him. Concentrating, he did everything he could to keep his mind off of Catherine's face. Bringing his free arm up, he let his fist fall into the wall with a light thud. He tried to picture his dog. His wife. His car. Anything but a face. Anything but–

"Hello? Is… Is someone there?"

Coby didn't look, but the words were enough to shoot through him and tear up anything he'd had left inside. He recognized the voice and that was enough. Linton.

"Anybody?"

Slowly, Coby lifted his head. He hadn't been watching where he'd been going, and he hadn't really checked to make sure the area was empty before he'd taken his spot at the wall. While he hadn't seen anybody standing around at a quick glance, he hadn't been searching the ground.

"Someone?"

He couldn't see a face anymore – the one in front of him now was completely covered in bandages – but somehow that didn't make him feel any better. Coby hadn't been around, but the injured woman on the ground in front of him had, and he's specifically charged her with making sure Catherine made it through the day. Not only was Catherine dead, but so was Nils, and over half of the platoon that wasn't dead had been shot up.

"P-Please?"

Please? What was that even supposed to mean? Opening his mouth, Coby struggled to say something. In the end he found he had nothing to say, or at least that he couldn't say it now. The lump in his throat wouldn't let him. It wouldn't have gone well for either of the two parties anyway. What could he say? Where were you? Why is Catherine dead? What happened? Coby was trying to get away from having to deal with Catherine, let alone the woman who'd let her die.

Stumbling backwards, Coby ran away from the stretcher as quickly as he could shuffle his feet. With his back injured, he wasn't moving nearly as fast as he wished he could have been going. The face of the woman behind him had been invisible behind the bandages, but the lack of seeing a face had been almost as bad as the seeing of the faces he wanted to forget. He needed something real to distract him; something that he couldn't tie back to Catherine. That something came easier than he'd expected.

Not far from where he'd shuffled off to, Coby could see Karl and Cezary sitting on a small pile of rubble. Karl looked worried about something going on in the broken down building across the street from him, and Cezary seemed to be trying to reassure him of something. Slowly, he walked over to the two men from his platoon and sat down next to them. "Everything alright here?" he asked in as composed a voice as he could muster. If he could find a problem that didn't involve him to worry about he might have been able to push his own sorrows back a bit.

"It's Lynn," Karl said. Though Coby could tell the man was in distress, he looked and sounded completely detached from whatever it was about Lynn that had him upset.

"Is she alright?"

"Yeah." After the words had left his mouth, Karl shrugged. "No. I don't know. The medics are in there now. She wouldn't let me stay."

Coby looked towards the building. He could see a lot of movement inside, but he couldn't make out any distinct figures. "What do you mean?"

"I mean she kicked me out as soon as the medics showed up," Karl said. "She… She was saying something about her back, but it didn't sound bad at first. Then somebody who might actually know something shows up and she makes me leave before she lets the guy check her out. I mean… what am I supposed to think about that?"

With a soft pat, Cezary put his hand on Karl's shoulder. "Look, I already told you. You've got nothing to worry about. She's just being a stubborn darkie bitch like she always is. You know how it is with those darkies. Once they've decided something they're going to go for it whether it makes sense or not. And it _never _makes sense."

"Yeah, I know, but…" sighing, Karl slumped against the large chunk of concrete behind him. "It's more than that. Something was off about her. Something–"

"Listen, kiddo," Coby cut in. He hadn't exactly forgotten about his own loss. Far from it. Catherine's face still burned within the back of his mind. Karl's worries seemed to drive the point that the war would still go on with or without her, though, and Coby would still have to deal with it – with or without her. It would only be a temporary fix to his ache – more like a small shot of Ragnaid than a miracle cure – but it would get him through at least the next five minutes. "You saw her alive, right?"

"Yeah."

"That's all you need."

Nodding, Karl dropped his head in between his knees. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I know."

"Good."

A silence fell amongst the group. For what seemed like an hour the three Militiamen sat on the pile of rubble and watched the medics work. They didn't seem to be making a whole lot of progress, but then again Coby didn't know much about the situation or medical care in general. Anything could have been going on in there.

As time crept past Coby's mind slowly drifted back to Catherine. It dawned on him that no matter what he tried he wouldn't be able to completely distract himself. Maybe he didn't even want to. Everything else could wait. The war, Catherine's letters, Ramona… he'd deal with all of that later. Right now, all he wanted was to live in the past. If he couldn't forget everything he might as well relive it. Closing his eyes he began to think back. The first time they'd met. Life together in the trenches. Building her house. Fishing on the river out in the country. Hiking through–

"Mr. Caird, sir?"

The light voice behind him pulled Coby out of whatever memory he'd been reliving. Turning himself around slowly enough that he didn't agitate his back again, he found himself face to face with the speaker. "Aisha?"

The young girl nodded. "The Captain would like to speak with you, sir."

Now that he'd finally committed to reliving the past he'd been pulled away. The war wasn't going to wait for anyone. Silently patting Karl on the shoulder, he stood up and brushed off his pants. He could already tell it was going to be a long night – the first of many. "Yeah," he said solemnly. "I suppose she does."

Grabbing the young girl by the hand, he signaled for her to lead the way and followed her off into the night.

* * *

Next Engagement: The Chain of Command


	33. The Chain of Command

**Engagement 33: The Chain of Command**

Captain Varrot's stomach lurched the moment the woman stepped into the room. She'd been used to long days – long days that often faded into long nights; nights that gave the false promise of rest before going straight to hell – but for some reason this day felt different. It had unfolded like hundreds of others before it. Another day, another battle. Just after losing contact with what had been left of Catherine's platoon the Imperials launched a full scale counter attack across the city.

For an entire day her men had been pinned down in that Godforsaken field. That put a lot on Varrot's shoulders. First and foremost, she had to defend the Squad's position. That was the objective handed down to her, and it was her duty to follow that order to the dot. Anything else came secondary – including the rescue of her lost platoon. It was a messy situation, but it wasn't the first time something like it had happened.

The second weight she'd had to carry came in a small package. Not only had she had to ensure that her Militiamen were doing what needed to be done, but she also had to ensure that her aid found a safe spot to wait out the day. Aisha was still too young for combat, and while the girl herself seemed eager enough to pick up a weapon Varrot wasn't too keen on the idea. She didn't want to see kids running around toting rifles. Many of the men and women in her unit were young enough as it was, and from what rumors she'd heard recruiters were beginning to turn a blind eye to the minimum recruitment age in their scramble to put weapons in people's hands. Many of them wouldn't be going home. That wasn't what was currently turning her stomach over.

The captain was pretty sure she was getting sick as well – she'd been running a fever for the past day and a half, and the splitting headache hadn't faded since midday – but that wasn't it either. Even compounded by the lack of sleep Varrot knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it wasn't sickness or fatigue that was making her nauseous. It was the woman currently standing in the doorway that led into her office that made her sick.

Looking down at the file in front of her, Varrot compared the small photo of the woman on the paperwork to the figure standing in front of her. There was a stark difference between the two. Instead of seeing the well groomed woman in dress blues her eyes fell on a mess. The woman's hair was matted and tangled, and loose strands hung out at unflattering angles. She had dirt smeared across her forehead, accompanying the baggy eyes and scratches that framed her face. A number of holes had burned through her utilities, and there was a dark stain that covered the front of her chest. Varrot was pretty sure it was blood, and it didn't seem to be hers. It had probably been over a week since the woman had showered, and not too much shorter since she'd taken off her boots for any substantial period. She was a mess through and through. It wasn't her physical appearance that made Varrot sick. "Corporal Wulfstan," she said as she took control of her stomach. It was intended to come out as a question, but the words left her mouth as a statement.

Marina didn't respond immediately. Something seemed to have caught her eye within the room. She stared blankly at the floor near the corner. Slightly unsettled, Varrot took a quick glance herself. Bullet casings. Nothing about them seemed out of the ordinary, but the woman in front of her seemed absolutely transfixed on them. Whatever the woman's problem, Varrot couldn't wait for her to get herself back into shape. She had a job to do, and that job was making sure the woman in front of her did her own job – something they'd be talking long and hard about, if she had her way. Marina wouldn't be doing her job if she couldn't keep her eyes off of the floor. "Wulfstan?" Varrot repeated.

Almost as if she'd slapped the woman, Marina's eyes jumped up to her. She recognized the expression – a deer in the headlights. With her hair tucked back behind her ears the woman's wide eyes tore through the room like two giant beacons. Varrot wasn't ashamed to admit that Wulfstan's fear settled her stomach a bit. This wouldn't be enjoyable, but it might help to relieve some stress. That would be nice. She had more than her own fair share to steam off. "Yeah," Marina said finally.

'Yeah'. Perfect. Set dominance first. Show her who's boss, sit her down, and ensure that if she hadn't had anything to fear before she certainly had something to watch out for now. Varrot squinted behind her glasses. Leaning back from her hunch, she sat straight in her chair before tearing into the woman before her. "When you address an officer, you say 'sir'."

Marina took a half step back in the frame and dropped her gaze to the floor once more. Whatever was there must have been very awe inspiring. Varrot didn't care. It made no difference to her what had the woman so fascinated so long as her message got through. "Yes, sir," Marina said. Slowly she stepped into the room. Every step closer pained Varrot. The woman entering her office came with an air of familiarity that Varrot had tried to repress for the past twenty years. It came flooding back with each step Wulfstan took.

"Take a seat, Corporal." With her hand, Varrot waved towards the single open chair across from her. She'd been able to set herself up in a small room on the second floor – the only room in the building with a desk. The desk and a single chair were the only furniture in the room before Varrot occupied it, and she hadn't done much herself to cozy the place up. Sick or not, comfort wasn't her prime concern at the moment. Ensuring that the Squad could still function was, however, and in order to do that she needed to talk to a couple of people, as uncomfortable as those meetings were going to be. She'd already made it through Coby. He'd been half despondent, but the actual discussion went surprisingly well. He was old, but he knew where his duties lay. The man had lost his friend, but he was still fighting for Gallia. The woman in front of her, on the other hand…

Marina didn't say anything more as she pulled the chair back enough to give herself some leg room. The metal legs scraped across the hard cement floor, shooting a grating sound into the ears of the room's occupants. Though she'd been the one to move the chair, it didn't seem as if Marina had expected the harsh noise either. She visibly cringed as the seat came to a stop. Varrot held her expression, and she didn't take her eyes off of the woman as she sat down.

Now they were face to face. It was a start. Finally dropping her gaze, Varrot brought her attention back to the woman's file. Marina Wulfstan. Twenty-five years old. She'd been in the service of the Militia for the past two years. All of her information was there. Date of birth, family, legal record, who to notify in case of non-fatal injury… everything she needed except for who the woman was herself. Varrot had access to anything she could have ever wanted to know about Marina's life, but she couldn't get an idea of what was running through her head. Probably fear at the moment. Fear and awe. That was good. Varrot didn't want to know the rest, though. She had a strong feeling that her stomach wouldn't be able to take what she saw.

Whether her stomach was ready or not, however, the task at hand wasn't going to complete itself. The meeting was technically a debriefing, but neither woman was under the illusion that this wasn't going to be a full blown performance review. A very important review, at that. There had been a number of disturbing events throughout the day, and all of them seemed to lead to the woman sitting across the desk. She'd kept the platoon alive, yes, but the cost seemed rather excessive. Unnecessary. A good leader could have pulled through without having to resort to fear, threats, or violence. Then again, Varrot was certain that the woman she was staring down didn't qualify as a 'good leader'. She'd resorted to all three. Ironically, this put the Captain in a position that made crossing the line out of 'good leader' seem very appealing. If Wulfstan couldn't respond to good old fashioned civility, maybe she'd understand the situation better put on her own terms.

Clearing her throat, Varrot glanced back down at the woman's file. She wasn't looking forward to the coming conversation, but it had to start somewhere. Neither of them had time to waste. Skimming the document's contents, she decided to start with something easy. It wasn't out of respect for the woman in front of her, but for her own sake. They'd get to the important topics soon enough, and Varrot needed to work herself up to that. There was no way she could bring herself to lay into the woman off the bat. Besides – it would probably make Wulfstan uncomfortable having to wait for what she surely knew was coming. Let her simmer for a bit before getting to the good stuff. Catch her out of her element. "Alright, corporal," she said finally, looking away from the file and staring the woman straight in the eyes before speaking. She made it as confrontational as possible, and hoped her eyes burned straight through the other woman's. "We're going to start at the beginning."

Marina fidgeted slightly in her chair. She was clearly already uncomfortable. Perfect. "Yes, sir," she said. From what Varrot had heard, the woman was renowned for her piercing glare. She saw none of her reputation showing through in that room. "Where exactly do you mean? When O'Hara went down or when Linton did?"

"Neither." Breaking eye contact once again, Varrot brought her finger down to the woman's file. She already knew what she was looking for, but she made a big show of scanning the papers, seemingly taking in every line with excruciating detail. After a moment or two of the theatrics, she stopped her finger on the line she'd wanted to discuss. "It says here you've been in the service of the Militia for two years. That's the beginning I mean."

Varrot didn't look up, but Marina's timid reply told her that she'd gotten just the effect she'd been looking for. "Yes, sir."

"Two years. Squad 7 has only been in active service for eight months. What unit were you in before that?" All of the information was already in the woman's file, of course, but she wanted to hear it straight from the woman's mouth.

"After boot and combat infantry school I was assigned to a Squad in the 38th Militia Division. I served there as a shock trooper for about a year before passing selection for sniper school." She paused there. After a few 'uhs' and 'ahs', Varrot signaled that she wasn't going to get off that easily. "After graduating sniper school Squad 7 was forming, and they had a spot open for a few snipers," she continued reluctantly. "I've been here ever since."

"Hm." Varrot looked back down at the open file. It almost pained her to listen to the woman's account of her past service – she herself had been an instructor at the Militia's only sniper school when it first opened. The Captain had fond memories of the place, and it hurt to see it turning out Militiamen like the woman in front of her. It was a highly selective program before the war started, and at the time Wulfstan had gone through it there should have been enough of an attrition rate to weed out the students that weren't acceptable – and it took more than a steady shot and good aim to survive the course. "Who was your commanding officer?"

"Lieutenant Matthews, sir. Under Captain Renner."

There were a couple of notes scribbled in. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. 'Satisfactory performance'. No indication of disciplinary issues. There didn't seem to be anything outstanding about her behavior within the unit, but there wasn't anything troubling either. Just satisfactory. No more, no less. "And this was just after you made it through training?"

"Yes, sir."

Varrot gave another affirming grunt. Gallia hadn't been expecting another war two years ago. For whatever reason the woman had enlisted, it wasn't to fight. She had a very good hunch as to why she'd signed up though. "You're not eligible for the draft," the Captain said as she made another show of looking over the paperwork. "I assume you volunteered for the benefits?"

Glancing up again, Varrot could see that this topic had clearly pushed the woman over the edge of what she was comfortable with. With her shoulders drooping, Marina glanced back towards the empty shells sitting in the room's corner. "That's…" She had to swallow before she could get the rest out. "That's right. Sir."

It wasn't uncommon. The Milita saw a lot of people like her come and go, and there were other members of Squad 7 who had signed up for the same reason. She hadn't spoken with many of them personally, but looking through the Squad's files it was easy to tell based off of the information given. Even the medics of the unit where signed up for similar reasons, along with at least one of the unit's scouts that she could remember off the top of her head. They hadn't had any glaring disciplinary issues, though. Varrot knew that everyone had their own reasons for fighting, and she wasn't going to pretend that they all fought for Gallia's sake. She respected that – so long as they did their fighting without disgracing her unit. How the woman in front of her had become a sniper she'd never understand, but Varrot refused to believe that she'd not only become one of Gallia's elite marksmen, but a Corporal and section leader to boot. The very thought rolled her stomach over, sending waves of nausea through her that nearly toppled her forward onto the desk. Clenching her fist, she refused to bow. The promotions had been indicated in Marina's file, but beyond that no specific details had been given. She'd been a private upon being assigned to Squad 7. Both of her promotions had come within the recent months. That led her to believe that they'd been paid for in blood. Still, she had to know exactly how such a person could ever be put in charge of a unit. Varrot had to admit that in the grand scheme of things the details weren't important. That didn't matter. They gnawed at her already upset stomach, and she knew that any effort to ignore them would end in futility. One way or another, she had to know. "You were a private when you were assigned to my unit," she said looking up. "When were you promoted to lance corporal?"

"That was Vasel, sir," Marina replied with a nod. "East bank."

"And how did that happen?"

Once more Marina shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Biting her lower lip, she took a deep breath before looking back up and meeting Varrot's gaze. Tapping her fingers on her lap, she closed her eyes before speaking again. "Our platoon was moving through the city. Johnson was assistant section leader at the time. If I remember right we were crossing a street from one complex of buildings to another." Keeping her eyes closed, Marina tilted her head back a bit. It must have taken her some effort to bring the incident into her mind, and she clearly wasn't enjoying the task. "He… wasn't the first to make the crossing. The shooter must have been waiting for a clean shot. I don't know. As soon as he stepped out into the street he went down."

"Dead?"

"No. It uh…" Opening her eyes again, Marina dropped her head forward. Her eyes didn't land on either Varrot or the shells in the corner this time – instead they went straight to the ground between her knees. "The round took his lower jaw off. He was… he was still alive."

Varrot gave a quick nod. As much as she currently hated the woman across from her, she knew that there were some memories that were better left buried. Unfortunately, leaving them buried wasn't an option at the moment, and as far as she was concerned Marina had lost her privilege to keep them repressed anyway. Still, there was a part of the Captain that felt uncomfortable about forcing herself on the woman. "Was he the first casualty you saw?"

"No, sir," Marina responded with her eyes still on the floor. "We'd lost a man to a machinegun nest the day before, and had another pinged up with small arms fire earlier that morning. He was just…"

Varrot dropped her own eyes for a moment. "He was the first," the Captain said solemnly. She'd seen a man shot on her first day in the trenches. She'd watched another bleed out on her second. It was the man she'd witnessed blown in half – everything suddenly missing from the waist down – on the third day that would always be 'the first'.

"I guess you could say that."

For everything she despised about Marina's conduct, Varrot had to concede that, if nothing else, they would always have at least that one thing in common. For the rest of their lives they'd always remember. "So you received a battlefield promotion to lance corporal."

"Yes, sir."

"And you held that position until…"

"Barious, sir."

Of course. It had all been documented. That didn't tell her much about how she'd actually been handed the position. "And how did that happen?"

"My promotion?"

"That's right. What happened?"

Marina's head was up again, and a strand of her hair had fallen in front of her face. With a quick flick, she tucked the loose bangs back behind her ear. "You mean the whole story?"

Tapping her index finger against the desk, Varrot thought for a moment. Did she really want to hear it all? Whatever had happened, it couldn't have been pretty. Those types of promotions never were. After debating for a moment, her mind was drawn back to what was waiting in the desk drawer. It was absolutely necessary. At least, it was to her. "The whole story, Corporal," she said in a voice that sounded a lot firmer and more confident than the woman felt. "Don't spare me the details."

For a long while Marina didn't move. After a minute she took a quick glance at the floor in front of her before taking another short look at the shells in the corner. It didn't seem like she knew what she wanted to keep her eyes. Varrot noticed that the woman had never once looked in her own direction. Shame? Maybe. Whatever it was that kept Marina from looking at her superior, Varrot now knew that she had the upper hand. Finally settling on closing her eyes and resting her head back again, the woman opened her mouth and began to speak.

* * *

Marina had never liked Gallia. The winters were always too cold, and the summers made her life a living hell. She had never been sure of what it was, but something that grew in the region flicked some sort of switch within her that set her allergies off like no other. There was a period of about two weeks every summer in which she was completely crashed out – barely able to even move without some sort of sinus infection dropping her to her knees. Sure, the forests were nice for hunting, but in the off season she wanted nothing to do with the maze of trees and brush that littered Gallia's countryside. Give her some place nice and open. A place with a view. Someplace where you could look out on the horizon and see unobstructed for miles and miles. A place completely void of forests, and almost void of people. Marina was in a place like that right now. She fucking hated it.

Lifting her sniper rifle's scope to her eye, Marina scanned the surrounding desert. How there came to be a desert in Gallia she didn't know, nor did she even care. All she knew was that there was in fact a desert, and that she was standing in it. Somebody had been talking about some sort of Valkyrur fairytale – that some sort of super weapon had destroyed the place. Sounded like a lot of superstitious bullshit. Didn't matter. There was a desert there, and that's where their mission had taken them. That's all she was concerned about.

Through the scope, Marina followed the arid line of the horizon all the way across her section's right flank. There wasn't anything out there, and she didn't expect there to be. The Imperials had been spotted to the east – their left flank. While there was nothing but dirt, dust, and sand off to their right, their left was completely obstructed by a large cliff face. She was thankful that it was there. It would at least keep the unit concealed until they swung around near the Imperial encampment. That was just about the only thing about the terrain she was thankful for, though. While there wasn't anything in the desert she was allergic to, the land was still determined to make life hell. The breeze was calm now, but every so often a wind would pick up and blow sand into her mouth and eyes. Sand was hell on her weapon as well. She'd already been forced to strip and clean the rifle more times in the past week than she'd been willing to remember. The sand wasn't the worst of it though. It was the sun. Night or day, she cursed the sun with every word in her extensive inventory. Through the day she begged for the sun to set. The Squad had learned very quickly that stripping down as much as you could was probably the best idea. With her utilities top in her rucksack, she'd strapped her chest rig on directly over her black undershirt. Everyone else had followed suit. It wasn't like the uniform was going to provide much camouflage anyway – whoever had decided on blue should be knelt down and shot. Still, even with all of the gear stripped down to bare minimum the heat was nearly debilitating. Then the sun would set. Pulling everything back out of her pack, Marina would spend the night shivering in her blanket begging the sun to rise again. Throughout the day anything was better than being hot, and throughout the night anything was better than being cold. Nobody won in the desert.

Before actually stepping foot in the region, Marina had always pictured deserts as large dunes of sand that stretched on all sides to the horizon. Sure, there were dunes in Barious, but she hadn't seen many of them. The area they'd been assigned to secure was mostly dirt, dust, and scrub. There was a lot of sand mixed in, of course, but the vast majority was hard earth. If anything, at least she had solid footing. The sky was kind of nice as well. Big, blue, and open. Just how she liked it. It wasn't a huge consolation, but at this point she was willing to grab onto anything offered.

Dropping her rifle back down across her chest Marina wiped the beads of sweat that were forming across her forehead off of her brow. What she wouldn't give for a cigarette about now. Grimacing, she tried to focus on anything else she could find. There wasn't much. Other than the rest of her section the land was completely empty. Normally that would comfort her. Here it just made her lonely.

Leaving footprints in their wake, the section moved forward along the cliff face. They were alone. The unit had gone out on patrol earlier that morning, and received a radio message that the Imperials had been spotted six klicks to the east of the Squad's original position. The entire battalion was moving in, and Squad 7 was no exception. Marina's unit would be linking up with them about a klick out of the staging area. It was just a matter of getting there.

Surprisingly, her Squad-mates seemed to be taking the desert trek relatively well. While everyone was nearly drenched in sweat, most still held their heads high and walked on with their shoulders squared. Theold was even whistling as he strode forward with his shotgun resting on his shoulder. Was she the only one suffering? Even if she was, there was no way she'd ever show it. Death first.

Looking ahead, Marina took a quick check of the column of Militiamen. Jessica was on point. Of course she'd get the draw on the easy march. They'd see any Imps coming long before they were in firing range. There was no particular danger on this stretch. Ustinov and Young were following close behind her. One of them must have said something funny, because all three of them broke out into a fit of laughter before long. Whatever. Better now than when they were trying to close on an enemy position. Let them get it out of their systems.

About thirty meters behind them, the section leader walked with a closed map in his free hand. Corporal Warren. He was a decent enough guy, and he'd been in charge of the section since before the beginning of the war. Of all the people in the section, he was the only one who'd been around longer than she had. He kept mostly to himself with his personal issues, and Marina respected that. Of the officers and enlisted members of Squad 7, he was one of the few she could tolerate in anything more than a small dose. A good distance off to his right was Knute Jung. Marina wasn't envious of the large pack he carried with him. Any extra weight was problematic in the best conditions, let alone in the desert. He seemed to take it well, though. The man was a bit older than the average Militiaman, but that didn't seem to be a problem for him. With his rifle slung, he –

Out of the corner of her eye, Marina could see Warren disappear in the cloud of dirt that erupted from the ground under him. The sound of the blast was immediate. Before she'd even realized what had happened she'd thrown herself against the cliff wall and dropped to her knee. Anyone in line with her had done the same, and those who couldn't make it to the wall were on their stomachs before the dust had settled.

"Shit!" Marina recognized the voice. Melville. It was distant, but his shouting carried in the emptiness of the desert. "What was that?"

Raising her rifle again, Marina took another quick look around. Still nothing. "Everybody stay where you are," she said as she lowered the weapon. "Nobody moves." There weren't any Imperials in range, and there would have been a second blast if they were being targeted by artillery. That could leave only one thing. Taking her eyes off of the horizon, Marina began to scan the ground at the section's feet. She was pretty sure they'd wandered into a minefield.

"He's still alive," a voice called from the back. Looking towards the speaker, Marina could see Mina take a step forward. "I can help him if I can–"

"I said you don't move," Marina yelled back. She didn't look happy about it, but it was enough to stop the other woman in her tracks. Pouting slightly, she planted her feet down and settled her weight back. She wasn't going to be moving. First problem solved. Keep everyone still. Now on to the second.

It didn't take more than a quick glance to see that Mina had been right. While some people were killed outright, Imperial anti-personnel mines generally weren't designed to kill – they were meant to wound. Severely. With a man down, a unit would need to take the time and resources to both treat and transport the casualty. Killing somebody could take one enemy combatant out of the game. Wounding one could bog down an entire unit. This mine had done its job so far. Rolling around on his back, Warren thrashed in the dirt under him, sending fresh waves of dust into the air with each twist he made. One of his legs had been nearly stripped of flesh at points, and there were large chunks missing from where parts his calf and thigh should have been. His other leg ended above the knee. Marina couldn't see what was left of what used to lie below it. It probably didn't exist anymore.

"Alright," Marina called out after taking a deep breath. "I'm going to go check him out. I think we're in a minefield, so nobody moves unless I say so." Turning her head back, she could see Mina at the end of the column. She was too far away to risk moving forward. "Mina, when I get up there you're going to have to walk me through treating him."

"It would be a lot easier if I just moved up myself."

Looking back towards the wounded man, Marina admitted that she preferred that option. It would mean she wouldn't have to work on him. One more look back convinced her otherwise. There was a lot of open space between the two of them, and there wasn't any way to tell how far into the minefield they'd wandered. "No." Shaking her head, Marina shouldered her rifle. "You stay where you are. I'll take care of this."

The man wasn't terribly far – maybe thirty feet in front of her – but that was thirty feet more than she wanted to cover in a minefield. His rolling about bothered her as well. While he'd stepped on a blast mine, it was very possible this was a mixed field, and if he accidentally triggered a bounding mine with his movement then they were really in for trouble. While it wasn't likely a bounding mine would kill anybody – at least until she herself got closer – it would almost certainly wound at least four. That would keep the unit down for hours. "Warren," she yelled out ahead of her. "Hey Warren! Can you hear me?"

She didn't get a response. In fact, the area had gone completely silent after the mine had gone off. The injured man seemed conscious, but for some reason he wasn't saying anything. That wasn't a good sign. Marina would have to move in closer to stop him from rolling around and to treat him. The dirt between the two didn't look welcoming. Taking a moment to think things through, Marina planned for the trek ahead of her. The ground was solid. Solid but dusty. Though they were faint, the man had left footprints behind him as he'd walked forward. Start there.

Letting out a long breath, Marina searched for his footprints in the arid piece of earth separating them. They hadn't been walking in a straight file. It would take her at least five steps to fall in line with him. After that she'd be able to follow his trail for about ten feet. Beyond that the blast and the settling dust and dirt had rendered the man's tracks unreadable. Alright, Marina thought to herself. Just like trailing deer. Lifting her left foot, she stepped forward. She'd been walking this same stretch of land for hours. Why was it so much harder when she knew there were mines around? Who knew how many she'd already unknowingly passed by? See? No problem. I've already got one step down. Just a few more and I'm home free.

It took a minute for her to realize that she hadn't taken the next step. For all the envisioning she'd done in her mind she had been sure that she'd already made it to Warren's trail. When she woke up to reality, however, she found she hadn't even taken her second step. She'd need at least four more. Warren couldn't wait all day for her to psyche herself up. Silently swearing to herself, Marina closed her eyes. If she couldn't see it happening it was almost like it didn't exist. Lifting her leg again, she sent it forward as far as she could throw it and immediately regretted it. Her foot struck the ground with a thud. The sound wasn't nearly as loud as an explosion, but it sent a chill up her spine anyway. Fuck me, she thought as she opened her eyes. She already knew what she'd see when she looked down, but that didn't make her feel any better about doing it. Marina dropped her gaze slowly. Her leg was still there. Breathing a sigh of relief, she closed her eyes again.

The cycle repeated three more times: Step. Fuck me. Open eyes. Look down. Sigh. Step. Fuck me. Open eyes. Look down. Sigh. Step. Fuck me. Open eyes. Look down. Sigh. The entire process couldn't have taken more than half a minute, but Marina had to check to make sure Warren was still alive when she'd made it to the trail. She was sure he'd have bled out in the time it seemed for her to make it even just that far. He hadn't. A steady stream of blood was pouring out of the man's wounds and soaking into the dirt below him, but he hadn't stopped moving. Marina wasn't sure what that meant. It was a difficult sight to look at—what was left of the man's severed limb hung in the air as he lifted his leg – but what was worse was the noise. There wasn't any. He was still completely silent. She wasn't sure what that meant either, but she knew it wasn't good.

Once she'd picked up on the man's trail she was able to walk as quickly as she could move her feet. Even after reaching the end of what she could see of his trail she didn't have any more trouble continuing forward. From the way the man had placed his feet before the trail had ended she could work out a general idea of where the man had stepped. Even if she couldn't have known, she had a pretty good idea that the path was clear up to where the man was. He'd already stepped on the mine, and she doubted the Imps would put two so close together – unless they were hoping the wounded man would trigger a second mine they'd placed. Even if they had placed two together like that, it was more likely that the second would be placed a little further ahead of the first, the reasoning being that the victim would likely fall forward when the first mine blew under him. If there was any place to worry about, it was anywhere near where Warren was rocking around.

Taking her last step, Marina took a knee next to the wounded man. She had a basic med pack, but Mina held most of the section's medical equipment. Pulling out the small standard issue kit, Marina set it down and sorted through the contents. There wasn't much, but it would be enough to keep the man stable until she could direct Mina up. The missing leg would have to be taken care of first. Holding what was left of the limb steady, she grabbed her tourniquet out of the kit and applied it above the wound. After making sure it was secure, she ran her index finger through a stream of blood that had pooled up below the stump and traced a large "T" across the man's forehead. The other leg was torn up pretty bad, but it didn't look to be as severe a threat. First she'd need to get him to stop moving, then she'd start talking with Mina.

Marina grabbed the man by the shoulders. "Hey, you're going to be fine. Just stop moving and I'll get your legs all fixed up. Right?" He didn't say anything back, but he did give a weak nod. It wasn't speech, but the man was responsive. Good sign. Patting the man on the arm, Marina turned back towards Mina. "Alright," she yelled. "I've got one leg done. The other's torn up pretty bad. Should I just wrap it up?"

"No," Mina immediately called back. "Stop the bleeding first. Put pressure on it. You should be able to take care of it. As soon as you get the bandages on him you need to get me up there. He'll probably go into shock if he hasn't already."

Marina didn't bother giving another response. It would just waste more time. Pulling out a gauze pad, she started with his thigh. There were still a few fragments in the wound, but she didn't want to do more damage pulling them out. Being careful not to cut herself on the sharp edges, she worked the pad over the wound and pushed down. "Alright, Warren. Half way there." She felt a tug on her sleeve. Turning her head she could see the man staring at her. It was more than a little uncomfortable. Through ragged breaths he gave her another nod. Another good sign. "There we go. You're doing good. Just sit tight."

She wasn't used to talking to people like that, but she'd make an exception for a wounded man – especially one she could moderately tolerate. One of the rules of treating a wounded man was to never let him know exactly how wounded he was. If he only had a scratch, you told him he was going to be just fine. If he was missing a leg and parts of his calf and thigh, you told him he was going to be just fine. Sometimes you had to lie. Sometimes you didn't. Either way, you stuck to the script. Looking at the man's wounds, Marina could tell they were severe. They weren't bad enough to kill him, so long as they could evacuate him in a reasonable amount of time.

That shouldn't be an issue. With the distance they'd already covered, the rest of the Squad would only be a few klicks further down the cliff face. The minefield would be their only real obstacle, but even that could be overcome. They'd just need to be very careful. As she continued to apply pressure to the man's leg, Marina realized that this put her in charge of the section. Warren would make it, but he wouldn't be fighting ever again. His military career was over, and his time in the war was done.

Lifting the gauze off of the man's thigh, Marina could see that she'd stopped enough of the bleeding to apply the first bandage. When it was secured, she pulled out another gauze pad and began applying pressure to his calf. "One more and we'll be on our way," she said. "We'll shoot you up with so many drugs you won't even remember your name." God that sounded good.

Once again she felt the light tug on her short sleeve, and once again he shot her a nod when she turned to look. Marina tried to smile at this one. It didn't come out. That didn't matter. He'd never known her as much of a smiler anyway. If she smiled now he might catch on that his wounds were greater than he already knew. Even if they weren't strictly immediately life threatening on their own, she didn't want him making things difficult for them.

Pressing the gauze against Warren's calf gave Marina a little bit of time to figure out how they were going to get through the minefield. The first objective would be to form everybody up into a line. That wouldn't be too difficult. The farthest person was probably about twenty paces out from the center line. Once everybody was in a single file, it would just be a matter of weaving their way through the field. With Warren on a stretcher they wouldn't be much slower than if everyone could still walk. Marina would take point herself. Warren had been carrying a metal detector, and as soon as he could be moved she'd take it off of him. There were reports that the Imps were starting to mix some small, wooden mines that the detectors wouldn't pick up in some of their fields, but she'd come to that road when it needed to be crossed.

Within a few minutes the second wound was ready to be patched up. The whole process had been quite a bit easier than Marina had been expecting. Sure, the mine had slowed the group down, and knowing that there was still a full field ahead of them would eat up even more of their time, but if all went well they'd still make their rendezvous before the assault. Things weren't completely out of hand. Marina still had control.

As the sniper began pulling out the last of her bandages she felt another tug at her sleeve. This one was a bit heavier than the ones that came before it. Still fiddling with the bandage, she didn't bother to look. "Last patch, buddy. You're home free."

Before she could place the wrapping on the man's leg, his hand let go of her sleeve and grabbed her by the forearm. Glancing down, Marina nearly forgot about the bandage she was holding while she took in the man's hand. She couldn't feel how tightly he'd been holding onto her sleeve, but she could certainly feel his grip on her arm. It hurt. His knuckles were already white, and the hand shook even as he held onto her. Pulling on her arm now, he gave another light tug. When Marina looked over he gave another nod. His eyes never left hers. "Yeah," she said uncomfortably. "You're fine. You've got nothing to worry about, OK? You've got to let go of my arm. I'll have you finished in less than a minute."

He was already tugging again as she started her turn back towards his leg. If Warren wasn't going to let go of her arm there wouldn't be much she could do – he was stronger than she was by a wide margin. She could have given his arm a twist, but in his state that would likely do the man more harm than good. The only option would be to convince him to let go himself. Gently placing her hand over his own, Marina sent him a comforting look. "I can help you, alright? But you've got to let go of my arm first. You've got to –"

Marina's voice trailed off when she noticed he was nodding again. For the first time she realized there was something distinctly odd about the movements. Each nod started with a quick jerk down, followed by a half hearted lift. Warren didn't seem too concerned about getting his head back up after the fall – the movement only seemed important so that he could drop his head back down again. Forgetting about the bandage she was holding or the man's hand wrapped around her forearm, Marina cocked her head to the side. It almost looked like he was trying to communicate. Maybe telling her that his legs hurt? She already knew that. It would be a good idea to reassure the man though. "Hey," she said sympathetically, "I know it hurts. As soon as Mina gives me the all clear I'll shoot you up, remember? I swear you'll be high as a kite. Won't feel a thing, believe me."

His head stopped lolling for a moment. His eyes were still staring straight into her. Not at her. Not through her. Into her. Marina could almost feel them burning into her skull. It was one of the most uncomfortable feelings she'd ever experienced. Finally, he began to move again, but instead of giving another nod he opened his mouth. As difficult as the nods were to watch, Marina wished he hadn't. The sound that came out couldn't be called a voice. It couldn't even be called a mumble. If anything, she might have called it a half gurgling, half choking rasp. Just listening to it nearly sent her breakfast up a second time.

Eyes widening a bit, Marina unconsciously leaned back slightly. He was trying to say something, that much was certain. She couldn't tell what it was, and she certainly couldn't tell why he couldn't speak. Damaged legs shouldn't have taken his voice. If anything, he should be screaming. Letting the sounds that came out of his mouth fade into the background, she tried to concentrate on his lips. There wasn't anything she could pull from that either. They were moving, but it didn't seem that the man had much control over where they went. That didn't stop him from trying. After a few more seconds the 'words', Warren's head fell forward again. He didn't lift it back up.

"Woah, hey." Reaching her still free arm forward, Marina grabbed the man by the chin and gently lifted his head. "You're going to have to tell me what's wrong." Warren opened his mouth again. The rasp didn't come. Before he could make a sound, the man began to retch and hack uncontrollably. Startled, Marina took another half lean back before realizing what she was doing. Warren wasn't faring well with the coughing fit on his back, and with his injuries he wouldn't be able to support himself. She needed to help him. Without hesitating any longer, Marina moved the arm that the man held onto forward. He didn't resist anymore. Placing her arm under his own and around his back, she slowly began to lift him up. "There we go," she said once his shoulders had cleared the ground. "Take a breath. Breath in. Just get some air and–" Marina was interrupted when the next hack brought something warm and wet with it. Looking down, it took her a long second to register what had happened. "Oh."

Warren was still watching her. If there was one thing she would always remember, it was how his eyes never left hers. The eyes always stayed the same. Always. The rest of the face, however, was now covered in blood from the chin down, and the warm fluid coated Marina's hand and wrist. Her first reaction was to immediately drop the man. She didn't. She couldn't if she'd wanted to. The woman was completely frozen in place. That wasn't right. He shouldn't have been bleeding from the mouth and nose. That only happened if blood had entered either the respiratory system or the gastrointestinal tract. His legs weren't attached to either. Marina sat puzzled until she felt the man move again. Pushing against her hand, he attempted desperately to repeat his nod. It wasn't until she felt the motion that she realized what he was trying to say. He wasn't nodding. He was pointing. Following the line his jaw traced down, she stopped at his rig. It was nearly impossible to tell through the black fabric of the man's undershirt, but there was definitely a dark stain spreading across the area directly under the equipment he was wearing. "Aw, dammit."

Marina had messed up. Fully assessing a casualty was always the very first thing the responder was supposed to do when treating a wounded man. She'd been so focused on the immediate damage that she could see that she'd jumped the gun and skipped straight past step one. Mina was going to throw a shit fit when she found out. Didn't matter. Worry about being chewed out later. All that counted now was treating the wound. "OK," Marina said returning the man's gaze. "This doesn't change anything, alright? I'm going to have to cut your rig off, but I'll make this better. OK? I promise."

Lowering Warren down onto his back, Marina let him go. Drawing her knife from her own rig, she turned him over as gently as she possibly could while still being able to access the straps on the man's gear. It took a few cuts and a bit of muscle to work her way through, but within a short time she'd completely severed the material securing the rig onto him. Taking a deep breath, Marina began to work the gear around and slowly lift it off of the man. She didn't immediately look at the wound. Instead, she kept her focus on the equipment until she'd found a safe place to set it down on the side. Marina told herself that she was making sure she didn't set off another mine. Part of her just didn't want to look at what was waiting for her. It would always be waiting though, and sooner or later she'd have to deal with it. She decided on sooner.

The immediate shock of looking wasn't as bad as she'd first anticipated. In fact, she still couldn't see the wound at all – Warren's hand was covering it. Come to think of it, Marina had only seen his one arm in all the time she'd been treating him, and that had been clamped to either her sleeve or her arm ever since she'd arrived. The arm currently covering his stomach must have been there the entire time. No wonder he'd been trying to point with his chin. Still, with his arm in the way it wouldn't be possible to assess or treat the man's wounds. She'd need him to move it. "Warren," she said as she placed her hand over the man's. "I can't help you until you move your arm. Can you do that for me?"

He rasped a bit more before shaking his head. With each sound the man made a little more blood shot out of his mouth is small flecks. He wasn't going to do it on his own. That didn't leave Marina with many options. "Look, one way or another you're going to have to move that arm. How about you at least help me out?"

Without taking his eyes off of her, Warren shook his head again. He still wasn't willing to cooperate. Glancing behind her, Marina took a look at the rest of the section behind her. Nobody had moved. Mina was looking very impatient though. It would be difficult for her to make out any details at her distance, but she probably knew how long certain procedures were supposed to take, and Marina was fairly certain she'd passed the deadline. She didn't have time to wait. "Alright, fine," she said grabbing Warren's arm. "I'm moving it for you."

Instantly he brought up his other arm to resist her. Marina was able to swipe it out of the way with little effort. She'd remembered him being a lot stronger than that. With one arm taken care of, she could focus on moving the one covering his stomach. Grasping it with her right hand, she made sure she was ready before beginning to pull it away. Warren was still trying to resist, but it wouldn't take much for the woman to overpower him. Marina grasped tighter to the man's hand. There was blood pooling up under the area the hand was covering, and in the spaces her fingers had worked their way below his arm she could feel the soggy fabric of his undershirt. The blood had made the material slippery to the touch. No matter. She could cut it out of the way once the arm was clear. Pulling against the man's effort to keep the arm in place, Marina was quickly able to wrench his hand out of the way. Within seconds the arm had been pushed aside. It wasn't the only piece of him that had moved.

At first Marina had thought that the blood that had soaked through his shirt had made the material stick to Warren's forearm, pulling it with the man as she pushed the limb aside. When it kept slipping out she realized it couldn't have been his shirt. Marina's hands were on the top of her head before the soggy mass came to a stop, spilling across the man's side and onto the dirt of the desert ground next to him. She was frozen again. Though she'd seen it happen, her mind refused to acknowledge what her eyes had just seen. "Oh, fuck me…"

It was all there. It wasn't supposed to be there, but it was. Of course, Warren didn't look. He was too busy staring at Marina to bother looking at the sloppy mass of himself that had just spilled out around him. She wished he'd look. She didn't care what at. It didn't have to be himself. He could stare off into the cliff wall and she'd be satisfied. Anything but her. He didn't seem to share the sentiment. His eyes still burned into hers, almost certainly pleading for help. Mina wasn't an option anymore. There weren't any options. The man had been dead before he'd hit the ground – he just hadn't realized it yet.

Opening his mouth, he made the same sickening, gurgling rasp that he'd made before Marina had pulled his rig off. He was still trying to speak. She couldn't understand a word of what he was trying to say. It was clearly an attempt at saying something. Warren struggled to get anything resembling a word out, and was visibly frustrated when it didn't work. Grimacing and scrunching his eyebrows, he tried again and again to tell her something. Marina didn't want to hear any of it.

She knew she had to tell him something though. Anything to keep him comfortable and shut him up. Stick to the script. If it was a scratch, you were going to be just fine. If you were short a leg, you were going to be just fine. If your insides had just become your outsides and you were choking on your own blood, you were going to be just fine. You were always going to be just fine. Nobody was ever fucking fine.

That didn't matter. Marina had a script to stick to. Tell him anything he needed to hear. Lie to him if necessary. Marina had always been a good liar. This shouldn't have been a problem for her. Opening her mouth, she tried to think of something to say. Don't worry? We'll patch that right up? Maybe it would be best to just tell him he'd be alright and leave it at that. Yeah. Something simple. Easy to get out. That always worked well. "You're…" She tried to raise her voice over the sound of whatever 'language' was spewing out of Warren's mouth. Her own words were drown out. "You're gonna be…" It was his eyes. Nothing she could ever say could be louder than those eyes. "I…" She'd never seen eyes so wide – so full of sheer terror and hopelessness. So full of absolute dread, and glaring straight into her. "I'm…" There was nowhere else to look. She couldn't physically stand the sight of the man's guts spread across his stomach, but she couldn't look away from him. Something cemented her in place. Marina wanted to run more than anything in the world. She didn't care that she was supposed to be the new leader. She didn't care that they'd string her up for desertion. She didn't even care that she'd be ruining what little chance her family's name had. The only thing that kept her feet planted was knowing that she was in the middle of a minefield, and that the man she couldn't look away from could just as easily be her. "I'm sorry, I…" The words were coming out before she knew what she was saying. "I can't help you."

The words didn't stop Warren's babbling. They didn't even slow him down. Whatever it was he was trying to say, the man was desperate to get it out. Marina couldn't understand a word of it. All she heard was choking. Choking and death. Before watching the man choke on his own blood she'd never believed a person could drown in a desert. Drowning didn't stop him from trying anything he could to speak. "Look," Marina said putting her hands out in front of her. "I'm really sorry. There's nothing I can do, just…" Nobody else was within earshot. She was on her own. "Just stop talking."

Throwing his arm out, Warren grabbed Marina's wrist. His hand was covered in gore, and it left a long, bloody mark that ran down her forearm. She could only watch the blood drip down out of the corner of her eye, though. Her vision was still locked with his. While the rest of the man's face strained and contorted with the effort of speaking, the eyes never changed. She'd never seen fear like it, and she had a feeling that the sight he saw through them couldn't have been much different. Marina had spoken to the man a few times outside of her section duties. He was one of the few. She remembered they'd been given a night off, so they'd taken a table at one of Randgriz's many bars for a few drinks. Once they were good and buzzed, the subject of dying inevitably popped up. They'd been on several operations, after all, and they'd both watched more than a few people die. Neither of the two were people of many words, but the conversation had gone well. They had more than a few things that they could relate to. First and foremost, neither of them believed in any sort of afterlife. Death was nothingness. When you were dead, you were gone. She remembered the conversation. Warren had talked about how nothing wasn't anything worth worrying himself over. He'd said darkness and solitude had been about the only faithful companions he'd ever had. That he didn't fear death. She remembered it so well because the idea scared the living shit out of her.

If his eyes were any indication, it scared the shit out of Warren too. It must have been easy talking about how he didn't fear death while nursing a buzz in the safety of a cozy bar. In the end it didn't make any difference. Whether he faced his end terrified or without fear wouldn't matter. He'd be just as much nothing either way. Why not be afraid? Everyone should be allowed to die with themselves in mind. It was the last thought they'd ever experience – why not let it be about the only person who's ever been with you every moment of your life?

Marina was more than alright with whatever was running through the man's head so long as he kept it to himself. He'd never wanted to express himself before – why should he feel the need to now? Whatever his reasoning, he did, and Marina was the only person around to listen. Reaching his other arm up, he thrust forward again and grasped her by her upper arm. She didn't care about any damage trying to fight him off would do. He was going to die anyway. With a jerk, she tried to pull her arm out of his grip. His fingers wouldn't budge. Even adding a twist to her motion and trying to slip through the weak point near his thumb couldn't break the lock he had on her arm. "Let go," she said when she realized that no matter how hard she struggled she was at his mercy. She couldn't hear herself over the sound of him.

Could he not hear himself? The constant grating rasp couldn't make sense to anyone or anything, but he continued on like they were sitting back in the bar. Did he think he was making sense? That the jumble of noises he was spewing out formed rational thought? It couldn't. It never would. "I said let go!" Moving as much of her opposite arm as she could below Warren's grip, she grabbed the hand that was holding onto her wrist around the man's thumb and gave it a sharp twist. Her assault was followed by another loud hack, and Marina felt a patter on her leg as the man coughed up again. The freedom she'd won lasted only a moment. Before her eyes had left the new bloodstain at her knee the hand she'd just ripped off of her was weaving its fingers into the fabric of her undershirt just above her hip.

Two dry heaves later Marina's vision was starting to blur. When she felt another warm, wet streak run down her cheek she didn't need a mirror to know that this fluid was a lot clearer than the dark black blood Warren had spewed over them. His lips continued to move though, oblivious to the gore flowing from his mouth. It wasn't just blood he was hemorrhaging. The syllables – if that's what they could have been called – ran together so quickly that Marina couldn't tell one from the next. "I can't understand what you're trying to say. I can't…"

Warren stopped talking long enough to take in a sharp gasp of air, but as soon as he'd pulled whatever air he could possibly hold into his lungs he began babbling again. They were the most important words he would ever have to say, and they both knew it. He was lucky. Many people didn't get the chance. Death came instantly. Either they'd be dead before they could open their mouth or they died alone, with only themselves to hear their final speech. Their swan song. Warren knew he was dying. He must have. She'd straight out told him. Now he had one chance to define his life; one chance to impart whatever final legacy he wanted to leave behind – and he had an audience. "Please… Just stop." Anything he'd ever done, or anything he'd ever wanted to do. Any crimes, regrets, sins, or transgressions… he could set them all right. "Warren…" She couldn't cover her ears. Even if she could reach up without his grip pulling her arm away she didn't think it would make any difference. Somehow she'd still be able to see the sound. The fact that everything in front of her was already a blur and that the tears were now flowing freely down her face wouldn't have made any difference. "Please don't do this to me."

Marina knew her objections wouldn't do her any good. The nearly legless, gutless man lying in front of her was fixed on forcing his words into her ears. There wasn't any way out of it. She would have shot him if she could have. It wouldn't have been difficult. Hell, it would have been a relief. Just a flick of her finger and everything would stop. She'd be doing both of them a favor. With so many other people watching that wasn't an option. They wouldn't demote her for it. They wouldn't kick her out of the Militia. They'd put her up in front of a firing squad, and whatever Warren was trying to tell her – whatever sentences he was trying to form with his broken body – Marina heard only one thing. There was nothing worse than dying. Even this.

"Look," Marina said abandoning hope of ever getting the man to shut up before he died. Her words came unevenly, but she pushed them through. "I can't understand you like this. You're going to have to slow down." Slowly edging forward, she leaned down until she could put her free hand on the man's shoulder. Up close, the stump of his severed leg and the mass of his insides on the ground fell out of sight. She could still see his eyes. "What are you trying to tell me?"

It seemed like he understood. Already Marina could feel his grip on her arm loosen a bit. As soon as the circulation began to run through her again, Warren stopped choking. His eyes were still speaking, of course, but at least the voice had stopped. Instead, he gasped in three long, ragged breaths. This was it. Talk him through it. "Alright," Marina said edging even closer. "That's better. Now. What is it?"

When he opened his mouth again the words came slower, but they were still a garbled mess. Straining her ears, Marina desperately tried to make anything out of the jumble he sent her. She could swear that she heard sounds at least resembling speech every so often. Maybe a 'K' sound. A 'K' or a hard 'C'. Maybe it was just choking. Probably. She had to pretend it meant something though. Her mind couldn't stand knowing that it was pure, absolute gibberish. "I still can't… I don't know." His 'words' never changed tone, speed, or pitch. The only thing differentiating one choking noise from the other was the 'content'. "Just a little slower. I think I can get it if you slow down a bit more."

Pausing for another moment, Warren took what looked like a big gulp. She didn't want to know what went back down. That wasn't important anyway. All that mattered was what was coming out. Even more deliberately now, the man opened his mouth. The chokes and gasps came brutally slowly. Each one carried a weight to it that the others hadn't had. It was on the tip of her tongue. She knew it. "'P'?" She could swear it was. It had to be. "'P' what? Pull? Put? What about 'P'?"

Finally letting go of her arm, Warren began to lift it into the air. He stopped it when it was level with Marina's chest. "I don't get it," she said looking down. Something about her? What was the 'P' about then? Concentrating, she put every ounce of her effort into interpreting even the slightest hint of any sound he could be trying to make. "Alright, that's good," she encouraged. "Just like that. Keep it coming. What exactly are you pointing at?" She was pretty certain he hadn't meant her chest in a literal sense. There was something else to the message she wasn't seeing. Taking another heavy breath, Warren stopped choking. He took another three gasps before Marina moved in on him again. "Good," she said. "Calm down a bit. It's alright. Take a breath and then we'll—"

Nearly in front of her face, a fresh stream of blood shot out of Warren's mouth and spilled out over his chest. When he'd seen what he'd done any sense of calm Marina had built up within him vanished. The following gurgle sounded more like a moan than any sort of formal language, and as soon as it finished escaping his lips he was babbling again. Even faster than before. She couldn't stand it. How could he expect her to listen to this? She'd seen people die before. Hell, she'd seen the aftermath of her own handiwork. People full of holes. People missing limbs – missing heads. None of them could ever match what Warren was doing to her now, and he'd never be able to take it back. She'd never hated anyone as much as she hated that man now. "Oh Goddammit, Warren, use fuckin' words!"

He wasn't listening anymore. Maybe he never was. His arm was up again, and he was grabbing Marina by the shirt. She didn't have the energy to push him away again. She was broken down just as much as he was. Crippled. Unfortunately she'd be the only one walking away. He wouldn't have to deal with it for very long.

Marina could still hear what she thought was the 'P' sound every so often. She wasn't sure how important it was in the grand scheme of what he was trying to say, but it was the only thing she could hold on to. His hand was working its way up her torso. It didn't seem to matter. By the time it had lifted itself onto her rig and reached her chest she could barely hear the noises coming out of him. They weren't helping her anymore anyway. Instead, she focused on the hand. Her chest.

No, not her chest. Just a chest. He wasn't moving his hand around. It stayed completely still just to the right of where she'd strapped in her combat knife. Directly over where her breast pocket would have fallen if she'd been wearing her utilities. Pocket. 'P'. That had to have been it. "Your pocket," she said quietly. As his arm began to shake she raised her voice. "Your pocket. You've got something in your pocket."

His head moved, but she couldn't tell if it was a nod or a shake. "Come on! Is it your pocket?" After another indiscernible fit of shaking, Warren's head began to drop back. By this point she couldn't hear him anymore. Somewhere in her mind she was begging him to speak up again. Even if it was the babbling. Anything that could have given her more time. "Hey! The pocket! Is it the pocket?" She didn't care that he was dying. At this point it was a relief. All she wanted was to know what he'd been trying to tell her – it didn't matter what it was. It could have been anything for all she cared. The only thing in the world that mattered were those words. Somehow she knew the rest of her life depended on figuring them out. Something was going to break if she couldn't. Something that couldn't be fixed. "Goddammit! Is it your pocket?"

The arm that Warren had held to her flank hit the ground with a light thud. Marina was able to catch the one that had been on her rig by the wrist before it dropped, but she dropped it soon after realizing that it didn't matter. The man was just as dead whether she was holding on to him or not. The desert had changed after the man had fallen back. It was quiet again, and all she could hear was a light breeze and the sound of her own breath. Her eyes were still blurry, but there weren't any more streams running down her face. Sniffing, she cleared her throat and looked over the man again. There was more blood in the surrounding dirt than she'd remembered bodies carrying. Of course she'd seen it all before, but something about it still shocked her. The reds and blacks melted together before soaking into the ground, and the pile of whatever had used to be inside of the body she knelt over already looked as if it were beginning to dry out in the intense desert heat.

She didn't gag again. Marina didn't know how long she sat there staring, but eventually it occurred to her that she wasn't alone. Looking up she could see the rest of the section surrounding her. Nobody had moved, and none of them had been within earshot. They could still see, and whatever had just happened, they couldn't see her like this. That wasn't acceptable. She was in charge now. People in charge didn't break.

Taking another sniff, she ran a quick checklist through her head. No matter what else the section had to do, she needed to get herself squared away first, and they needed to see her do it. Warren's weapon was lying in the dirt not four feet away. She needed to go through something official. Any standard procedure would do, just keep the flow of action moving. If she froze the unit would freeze, and that wasn't possible. Secure the body.

Within a few quick movements she'd crawled over to the man's Mags. It didn't look damaged. Picking it up, she ejected the weapon's magazine and pulled back the bolt. Making sure the weapon was secure and safe, she carried it back over with her to Warren's body. There wasn't much they could do with it now. They'd have to pick whatever they could use off of it and leave him behind. Sorting through his rig, she took whatever Mags magazines she could strip off of him and placed them in her own free pouches. While O'Hara seemed to manage her duties well, she herself didn't feel confident leading the section looking through a scope, and whatever close range weapon she could get her hands on she'd take.

Once she'd filled her rig to bursting, she flipped him over onto his stomach. She took extra care to cover the mess that had spilled out of him with his body. The process would be easier without having to look at it. Being careful not to tip him over again, she gently pulled the metal detector he'd been carrying from around his shoulder. Placing it behind her, she took a deep breath. Only his rucksack was left to sort through.

Marina didn't want to open it. She knew that somewhere within that pack was a uniform, and somewhere on that uniform was a breast pocket. If she saw it, she wouldn't be able to resist looking through it, and she didn't want to know what was in there. She also knew, however, that looking through his pocket was suddenly the most important task she'd ever been entrusted with. The war didn't matter until the pocket had been searched and whatever had been waiting was brought to light. Even then, something told her that, in some strange way, that pocket would be the most important thing that would ever happen to her. The war wouldn't stack up. Everything that had come before it would cease to matter, and everything that came after would in some way find its way back to a small pouch on a dead man's uniform. Moving on without searching it just wasn't possible.

The pack didn't open easily. One of the threads was worn, and it took Marina a couple of tugs in order to get the zipper to work. When the job was done the bag sat open in front of her. She hadn't bothered pulling it off of Warren's body. Moving it would have just made matters worse. Although she could see exactly what she was looking for at the very top of the rucksack, Marina pushed it aside and sorted through the rest of the pack first. When she hadn't found anything worthwhile, she searched again. After her third time through the bag, she looked up. The section was still waiting. Nobody moved, and not one of them spoke. They were all staring.

Her hands were shaking when she pulled the uniform out. Although it was only the utilities top, the light blue material felt heavier than usual. It wasn't all physical weight. Gently setting it on her lap, she quietly folded the uniform into a neat square. The breast pocket was face up. For what seemed like a long while Marina stared it down. Although she'd talked to Warren a few times outside of what she considered work, neither of them had gone very far into detail about their personal lives. Marina could live with finding a picture of a wife, if he'd had one. It wouldn't be pleasant, but she could at least live with it. Whoever it was would be a grown woman. A wife could handle it, or at least if she couldn't it wouldn't be Marina's problem. The sniper didn't think she could live with finding a picture of a kid. Somehow she just knew it would be a picture of a kid. She'd reach her hand in, feel the photograph between her fingers, pull it out, and end up hating Warren for the rest of her life for making her see it. Marina would hate herself too. She'd probably even hate the kid.

It was a mistake, and she knew it, but it was too late to turn back now. Her hand was already reaching for the pocket. A million possibilities ran through Marina's mind. Pictures of kids. A wedding ring. Letters. None of them brought any sort of comfort. She stopped her hand just before plunging it into the uniform. With a few deep breaths she could hack it. Whatever it was. Didn't matter. She could take it, and she knew it. Even a kid. Marina wasn't sure what she'd find, but after a moment of calming herself down and thinking things through she was sure that she could handle anything she pulled out. She was ready. With one last breath, she flipped open the pouch, thrust her hand in, and nearly broke into tears.

Immediately her vision began to blur again. She couldn't get enough air in her lungs to concentrate. Frantically, Marina searched every inch of the pouch that she could get her fingers on, and when that didn't work she pulled the material inside out. Nothing. The pocket was empty. Whatever it was Warren had been trying to tell her was lost forever. It had been his final chance. He'd stripped himself naked in front of her and left himself completely open. Anything he'd ever wanted to say, he'd told her. He'd entrusted her with the most important speech he'd ever made – and she hadn't caught a word of it.

If she'd believed she had a soul, Marina would have gladly sold it for even the tiniest hint as to what he'd been saying. She tried to run a few ideas through her mind, but she had no idea where to start. Nothing that had come out of Warren's mouth could ever have been understood. It was foolish to even have tried. She also knew it was foolish to try figuring it out now, but that didn't matter by this point. She'd already done the damage. What would someone say when they died? What would she have said? It only took Marina a split second to realize that wasn't the right question – it should have been 'What was she going to say?' Better yet, 'Would she even get the chance to say it?'

Marina didn't realize somebody was yelling until something hit the ground nearby. Looking up, she could see that Melville still had his arm extended. He'd thrown a rock. "What are we doing?" he yelled. By his tone, Marina could tell this wasn't the first time he'd called out to her. She was losing it again. Scrunching her eyes shut, she gave her head a heavy shake. She couldn't let that happen. Melville was right. They had to do something. If Marina stayed there any longer she'd crack for good, and she wouldn't have any hope of recovering – if that was still even a possibility.

There wasn't anything more she could do now. Whatever damage Warren had done to her was already done. She'd deal with it later. Right now the section had a job to do, and they were damn well going to do it. They had a long way to go yet, but they'd make it. Marina would make sure of that. The body at her feet was no longer their concern. He was dead. Nothing. Fuck him.

Opening her mouth, Marina tried to call out to the Militiamen surrounding her. Her throat was too dry to say anything. Swallowing, she tried again. "When I say, we're continuing forward. Don't move until I tell you." That would do for now. First thing was first. Warren had been carrying a metal detector. Use that.

In a quick twist Marina turned to where she'd set the detector on the ground. Picking it up, she looked for the power switch. She wasn't qualified with the machinery, but that didn't matter at the moment. Anything that could help would be used. Finding the knob, Marina gave it a quarter turn. Nothing happened. Confused, she double checked the power switch. It said the machine should be on. Turning it back, she returned the dial to the off position before twisting it back to on. Nothing.

Flipping the detector over, she checked to make sure the battery was secure. It was, but that wasn't the problem. The problem was the giant hole blown through the power mechanism. The machine wasn't anything more that a heap of scrap for all the good it would do them now. What she wanted wasn't a metal detector anyway. She wanted someone who could lead them the hell away from there. Her father immediately sprung to mind, but she pushed that idea aside just as quickly as it had come. He wouldn't have been much actual help. Fighting in the bush was nothing like fighting in the desert, and his enemies had never been the Imperials anyway. It would still have been up to her to pull them out. Besides – one look at Warren's body told her she didn't want anyone she knew anywhere near there, even if they really could have helped.

Licking her lips, Marina began to think of her options. The first thing they needed to do was to get away from the body. Start moving forward. Wait. No. No, that wasn't right. Her head was getting fuzzy again. Warren's words had faded from her ears, but they still hadn't left her mind. If she didn't block them out they were going to get somebody killed. They needed to get into a file first. Change the formation.

Moving everybody into a single file was going to get complicated though. Without the mine detector they'd have to move nearly blind. They could, of course, get down on their hands and knees and physically search for the mines, but that would take all day. Another option would be to radio in an engineering unit, but with the coming assault they'd probably be pushed to the end of the priority line. That could take all day. Marina couldn't think of any other options though. Resting the Mags on her knee, she looked out towards the ground in front of her.

The Imperials hadn't been in the area long. If the minefield had been set up, it had been set up recently. They also didn't seem to have placed an overwatch on the position. If the Imps had, they'd probably be all dead. At least they had that going for them. The idea that it was most likely a recently placed field could help as well. It didn't exactly restore any of the woman's hope, but it might be able to get them through the day. The ground around them was hard and covered with a thin layer of dirt and dust. There were a few shrubs here and there, but for the most part it was clear and open. Scanning ahead, she could spot a few small spots of discoloration. That must have been where the Imperials had dug up the ground to place a mine. The color was already beginning to blend in with the surrounding dirt, but there was just enough of a difference that if she knew to look for it – and kept a sharp eye out – she would probably see where the mine had been placed before she came up to it. Probably.

"Alright," she yelled out loud enough for the rest of the section to hear her. "We're moving in a file. I can see where they've placed the mines, so I'll guide you all through one by one. Once we're in position I'm taking point."

Marina heard a deep voice from near the rear of the group. She recognized the speaker as Hannes. "Who's on body detail?"

Glancing down, Marina took a quick look at the dead man. She'd been hoping to just get as far away from everything she'd just seen as possible. It wouldn't make too much of a difference in actually holding the unit up – if anything slowed them down it would be herself on point – but Marina was willing to take advantage of any excuse possible to get away. "Nobody. The rest of the Squad needs us up front as soon as possible. He'd hold us up. We'll leave the body here for the engineers to pick up when they clear the field."

Her order was met with a couple of shrugs from the few people who reacted. If she herself wasn't so eager to leave the body behind she might have been disturbed by the ease of their compliance. After a moment of thought Marina realized it shouldn't have come as a surprise. They'd left people behind before, after all, and some of them hadn't been quite as dead as Warren was. Nothing wasn't anything worth worrying about anyway. With that issue settled all that was left was to start getting people in line and moving. Theold was closest to the center. He'd be easiest. Start there. Gain some confidence before moving on to the big gaps. "Bohr, you're first."

The lancer looked up. Understandably, he didn't look too happy about being picked out of the crowd. Marina would worry about empathy later; right now they needed to be on their way. Resting his shotgun on his knee, Theold tapped his fingers on the weapon's foregrip. As soon as Marina had finished telling him he'd be going his eyes had dropped to the ground between him and his destination. "There aren't any mines there, right?"

"Yeah," Marina replied. "That's right."

Theold nodded. "And you can see all of them, right?"

All of them? Yeah, she could see all of them – all of them under where the dirt hadn't blended in yet, at least. There could be a hundred mines buried earlier or that the Imps had blended in themselves. It was a minefield. They were supposed to be invisible. The section probably had plenty of mines buried beneath them that she couldn't see. "Yeah, I can see all of them. You're clear up to me. Fall in."

For a moment Theold didn't seem like he was going to move, but after a brief period of deliberation he rose to his feet and took a step forward. He didn't explode. Within a few seconds he'd stepped into the spot behind Marina. One down. Time for the next.

The entire process took a little longer than she'd been expecting, but overall it went well. Nobody died. That always counted as going well. Some of the Militiamen were more than willing to get on their feet again, but one or two took a bit of coaxing. Thankfully the rest of the section was willing to play the support role. Marina wasn't particularly in the mood for that one. When the last person had found her place in the file they were ready to move. Working her way to the front, Marina took one last look at Warren's body. Their patrol had taken them quite a bit out of their way. It could be days before the engineers found their way around to clearing that sector of mines. In the desert sun…

She didn't even want to think about it. Turning away as quickly as possible Marina stepped up to the front of the file. Before moving on she took a quick check of her equipment. She already knew it would be good to go, but she still needed to be in control of some sort of action. Her rifle was slung over her shoulder, and she held the Mags down at her waste. Everything about the weapons checked out. There was plenty of ammo in her rig, and all of her pouches had been secured shut. She was out of excuses for stalling.

There was nothing in front of her. The desert still stretched out to the horizon, and the sky was still blue and clear. The world hadn't changed after Warren's death. Everything was exactly the way it was when he'd been alive. Marina couldn't stand that. Whatever happened to her the world would go on. Most of it wouldn't even notice. Only a few people would really care. Like Warren, she'd be left to bleed out alone. The sky would watch her die in indifference. Nothing about the world would change. With a deep breath she closed her eyes.

It would be a piece of cake. Just put the left foot in front of the right. Before her body could object she'd lifted her leg. Once again, her foot struck the ground in front of her a little harder than she'd expected. Fuck me. When she opened her eyes again she didn't want to look down. Marina already knew she hadn't stepped on a mine, but she also knew that if she looked she'd envision the bloody stump of what remained of Warren's leg instead of her own. It was all she'd seen when she'd shut her eyes. That and his voice. She couldn't see that, but she could certainly still hear it. There were no other sounds in the desert. The breeze had died down again and had instead been replaced with a terrible, mind numbing babbling. It meant something. There had to be some meaning to it all. She couldn't accept that there wasn't. Marina would never know though, and she was sure that it would haunt her for the rest of her life.

Driving the image of the man's leg out of her mind, she tried to shut her eyes again. What she saw this time was worse. She decided it would be for the best to keep her eyes open. Looking out, there was a whole lot of distance between them and where they were supposed to be going. A whole lot of empty, open space. Marina could see three or four of the discolorations nearby. She hoped that was all there was. Still nearly half frozen, she took another breath. Alright now, she thought to herself. Right foot in front of the left…

* * *

When the story ended the woman didn't open her eyes. If it had been anyone else sitting in that chair Varrot would have given them a moment to collect themselves. It wasn't anyone else, and she wasn't about to let Marina find a comfortable place to settle in. The man in her story was far from the first person to step on a landmine. He wouldn't be the last either. It was sad, but that was what they did. It was their job to fight, and to complete that job some of them would have to die. "And you've been in command of 3rd section ever since?"

"That's right, sir," Marina answered. When she fell silent again her eyes opened. There was something different about them now. They were hazy. Unfocused.

The Captain's own eyes didn't waver. Instead, they grew harder and less relenting as each moment passed. She was almost ready. Just a little more prying and she'd be good to go. "May I ask you a personal question, Wulfstan?"

It didn't matter how Marina responded to the query, and both of them knew it. Varrot would be getting her answers whether the other woman consented or not. "Yes, sir."

Varrot didn't look back down at the file. What she was looking for wouldn't be written down wouldn't be kept in those records. "You've been on the front lines since the battalion's first offensive, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"How many people have you killed?"

It clearly wasn't the question the woman had expected. Lifting her hand to run through her hair, Marina's eyes momentarily sharpened. She was focusing again, but it didn't seem to be a good kind of attentiveness. It was edgier than her normal disposition. "Sir?"

"I'm talking about your kill count," Varrot said adjusting her glasses. "I assume you've kept track."

"No, sir." Marina shook her head lightly. "I uh… I haven't really kept track."

Bullshit. Varrot knew a sniper when she saw one, and while the woman sitting in front of her was no sniper she'd been given a rifle, and that was more than enough to enable her to answer the question at hand. "Corporal," she said with a hard glare, "I asked you a question."

"Seventeen, sir."

That was better. Varrot was determined to make sure not only that she got everything she wanted out of the woman, but to make sure that Marina knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that there wasn't anything she would ever be able hide from the captain. That was essential. "And that's seventeen confirmed?"

"Yes, sir."

"That's quite a tally you've racked up." It was a compliment, and it was genuine. Seventeen confirmed kills was nothing to scoff at. Disregarding Catherine she had the highest count in the battalion that Varrot knew of. That put her on top of the surviving snipers. "Were all of those with the GSR?"

"No, sir," Marina answered. Rolling her eyes back, she began to recall her count. "That was ten with the GSR, five with the DMR, and two with a Mags."

Varrot nodded again. She was still pretty sure she could dig deeper. "And counting those that went unconfirmed. What would you put that number at?"

"I uh…" Her glance drifted back towards the shells. Varrot noticed that she had three focal points within the room when her eyes weren't closed: the floor, those shells, and herself. It felt good to know that the last of those three was the one that seemed to make her the least comfortable. "I honestly couldn't say, sir. Maybe double that. Probably a bit less."

The answer seemed honest enough to pass. There was no way the woman could have ever known the full count, and her estimate was reasonable. Feeling a bit more confident now, Varrot decided it was time to start edging her way to the real reasons they were sitting across from one another. "And do enjoy your work?"

Marina looked legitimately shocked. Varrot wouldn't have believed the woman's eyes could have gotten wider than they already were if she hadn't seen it herself. "You mean… you mean killing?"

They were exactly the words the captain had wanted to hear. She had intentionally shied away from using the word 'killing', but Marina had taken the bait anyway. "If that's how you interpret your work, then yes." Part of a snipers work _was _killing. That wasn't all Marina's job entailed though. Along with her job as a sniper she was supposed to be keeping a section in line. She was supposed to be acting as a role model within the Squad.

It took a few seconds for her to get her response. When Marina's eyes had returned to their normal size – or at least as normal as they'd been since she'd entered the room – she took her vision off of the empty casings and looked at the captain in front of her. "I enjoy fulfilling my duty," she answered carefully.

"And do you see a difference between the two?"

Biting her lip, Marina let out a low breath. "To be quite honest, sir, no. I don't."

"Hm." And therein laid the problem. Varrot wanted leaders commanding her units. Leaders saw more in their work than just killing. Then again, Marina wasn't a leader. "That's alright," she said, still feeling slightly disappointed. "I didn't expect you to." There was a sharp edge to her voice that she hoped shone through with 'that's alright'. By the look on Marina's face it had. She still wasn't looking forward to the coming conversation, but the captain had other things that needed done and she didn't have all night. Everybody had a duty. "I do, however, expect a certain standard to be met by the leaders within my units, regardless of however that leader may perceive his or her duty, and I'm not certain that standard has been met."

Marina's gaze dropped a bit, but she still didn't look away from the other woman. "Yes, sir," she said weakly.

"Do you know what I'm talking about, Corporal Wulfstan?"

The other woman gave a contrite nod. "Private Nielson, sir."

Captain Varrot let out a heavy sigh. This was going to be exhausting, and she knew it. So much for feeling better. "Well, we can s_tart _there."

The words tore through Marina like a bullet. Varrot watched her recoil, and for a slight moment she felt much, much better. That moment didn't last long. "St—" Marina stuttered for a moment before she got the words out. "Start, sir?" she asked in disbelief. That must have been all she thought she was in for.

If she were feeling better, the captain would have let out a sarcastic laugh – something to show a display of power. She wasn't in the mood. "What," she said in a voice that couldn't be mistaken for anything but deadly serious. "You thought that was my only issue with your conduct?"

Marina's eyes widened again. They didn't return to their 'normal' size after her surprise had faded. "I – "

"When did you decide that such force was necessary in order to get your men moving," Varrot interrupted before Marina could get a defense out. She wasn't about to give her any breathing room.

With her mouth hanging open, Marina leaned forward slightly in her chair. Normally Varrot would have been worried that she hadn't had the impact she was looking for, but by the way the sniper's shoulders sagged it wasn't a confrontational lean – it was shock. Maybe she'd expected a quick rundown of everything she'd messed up. Possibly a berating that ran through the list, with Varrot lecturing off why she shouldn't have shot one of her men. She might have even expected a demotion and a quick kick out the door. While Varrot really liked the sound of that last one, the woman wasn't going to get off that easily. The captain wouldn't either. If neither of the women were going to get their way when the sniper finally left her office, Varrot was going to make the other woman pay. She wasn't going to yell at her and call it a day – she'd make the woman answer for what she'd done.

Marina's fingers clutched on to the flaps of the pockets at her thighs. It must have been the only way for her to keep them from shaking. "Our platoon was pinned down in this building for the better part of the day," she said shakily. "When Private Regard notified me of a possible method for calling reinforcements I relayed the order to Private Nielson. He disobeyed. When I ordered him again he continued to refuse."

Varrot scowled. "So you shot him."

"I did what I had to in order to prevent morale from falling through," Marina said a little more forcefully. It was still clearly defensive. The tone was a bit more than Varrot had been hoping to hear, but it was far from the aggressive voice the woman was supposedly known for. That was enough of a victory.

"No," the captain insisted, "you did what you needed to do to cultivate the fear necessary for you to keep your troops in line." By this point her palms were planted flat on the desk in front of her. She didn't remember how she got into the position, but she realized that she was leaning forward. It must have been an intimidating sight from the other side, because Marina slowly began to edge back. "That's not how a good leader handles her platoon, and that's not how I want things done in my battalion."

"Yes, sir," Marina replied, "I understand, but–" Before she finished the sentence, the woman stopped in her tracks.

"But, what?" Varrot asked after a moment of waiting for the sniper to continue.

It took Marina a few moments to warm herself up to speak. When she finally opened her mouth, the little force she'd built had disappeared. "No, sir. It was nothing."

"It sounded like you had something to say," the captain pressed. She was determined to keep on the offensive. Find every hole the woman could crawl into and rip her back out. That was the only way she'd make it through this. "I want to hear it."

Marina brushed another strand of hair behind her ear. Her hand shook as it moved through the empty space between her leg and her head. It seemed she was having second thoughts. Good. "I'm sorry, sir. It was nothing. I just–"

"Finish what you were going to say." Varrot didn't glare, but she could tell that her eyes were giving off the same effect. "That's an order, corporal."

An order was an order. There was no way out of this one now. Dropping her head again, Marina took a gulp of air before complying. "Nielson was disobeying a direct order, sir. By the books what I did was within standard operating procedure."

There it was. Wulfstan's trump card, and the only thing keeping her from an immediate court-martial. As she'd said, everything she'd done had been done before – and people had even been given medals for it. Disgusting. The only medals Varrot ever wanted to hand out were for shooting suits of armor, not blue utilities. Thankfully, she was in charge of sending recommendations for commendations in this unit, and Wulfstan certainly wouldn't be seeing a nod. There were a few Militiamen that were under her command who would be getting recognition for their actions that day, but Marina herself was not one of them. She did have the law on her side though. That wouldn't help her here. "You're absolutely right," Varrot conceded. "I've heard multiple accounts from witnesses on hand, and most of the details seem to match. As it stands there's nothing I can do to punish you for this particular incident." With a sigh, the captain stood from her seat and turned her back to the woman who'd been sitting across from her. The wall behind her was empty. In fact, the entire room was empty. She still cut a striking figure once she got to her feet. That was all she wanted. If she could stand above Marina as she began to cut her down the effect would be that much greater. "Do you mind if I tell you a story of my own, corporal?"

Again, no consent was necessary. "No, sir."

It wasn't a story she wanted to remember. Far from it. Unfortunately, it was the first thing Captain Varrot had thought of when she'd heard of what had happened under Marina's command. She'd already known that there wasn't anything official she could do about it, but that didn't mean she had to tolerate it within her own command. Closing her own eyes, she began to recall all of the faces she'd known from twenty years before. Some of them had faded with the time. Most of them she might as well have seen yesterday. There was one in particular she could pull out of her mind instantly. She recognized the feeling it stirred within her – it was the same one she'd felt when Marina had stepped into her office. "This was back in the first war," she began slowly. "Our own platoon had been pinned down in an enemy trench system. I was still an enlisted man back then – the platoon sergeant."

With each word that left her mouth, the smells of the city around them faded and were replaced with the mud, smoke, and gunpowder of the trenches. It wasn't a place she wanted to return to. "We'd lost four men, and had another six wounded. The only way out was to send a runner back to link up with our main line. We had two runners with us. Both of them refused to go." Opening her eyes again, Varrot turned to face the woman still sitting in her chair. Marina was a good couple of inches taller than the captain, but it made no difference when she was sitting. The standing woman still towered over her. Remembering the event, though, the captain didn't feel nearly as tall as she should have. "When they continued to refuse, the platoon commander drew his sidearm and shot one of them. Do you know what happened to the other?"

Marina slowly nodded. "He followed his orders, sir."

"That's right." Folding her arms, the woman began to pace. "And from then on he followed every order the man gave. In fact, nobody in the platoon ever disobeyed him again. However, there was not one person in that platoon who respected the man, and from that day on I've hated everything he ever stood for. I'd go so far to say he's one of the two people I've ever hated personally." Well, not quite two. She was working her way up to three now. "I decided that day that if I were ever given command of a unit I would never follow his example, nor would I tolerate those who did. And I haven't. I'm convinced that there's never a situation in which proper guidance and good leadership won't fail to keep a leader in control, rendering force and fear unnecessary. Do you agree?"

Marina thought a moment before answering. She was out of the woods on this issue, so her answer was free game. As much as Varrot wanted to hear a 'yes, sir', she wanted an honest answer out of the woman. She wasn't disappointed. "No, sir. I don't."

The words hurt to hear. This was not going to be a good night for the captain. Quickly, she glanced at the desk's drawer. She didn't think she could bear opening it. It would have to happen eventually though. "But while you are under my command, you _will _act in accordance with my policies. Are we understood, corporal?"

Marina sighed in relief. She seemed to think the worst was over. "Yes, sir," she said a bit more confidently.

Varrot smiled. It wasn't an inviting expression. "Good." Stepping forward, she once again placed her hands on the desk. She didn't sit back down. "Now, onto more serious issues."

If the area hadn't been secured, the captain might have thought the woman in the chair had been shot. She'd been half out of her seat before Varrot had indicated she wasn't through with the woman yet, and any hope she'd shown of leaving melted off of her face. It really was a beautiful sight. "_More _serious?" she stammered.

Disgusting. It seemed she didn't even realize what she'd done was wrong. If shooting a comrade in arms for disobeying an order made Varrot sick, this just made her downright livid, and there was nothing that could save the woman from this fate except for the captain's own mercy. "I spoke with a number of the troopers that had been under you command before I called you in here so that I could get my facts straight. One of them told me an interesting story."

"Sir?"

She really didn't know. Varrot could feel her blood boiling beneath her skin. How could she not know after what she'd done? If it were up to her, Wulfstan would have been gone long before she'd stepped into her office. Unfortunately, things not going her way seemed to be the new norm. "After O'Hara was killed you took two troopers with you to secure the sniper's location. When you found a wounded and disarmed soldier on the roof you promised him aid. I have two matching reports stating that instead you killed him."

The look on Marina's face could only be awe. Mouth agape, she began to shake her head as quickly as she could manage the movement. "No, I–"

"No, corporal," Varrot yelled over her objections. "I don't want to hear what you have to say about this. You're going to sit where you are, you're going to stay quiet, and you're going to listen very hard to every word I say." Though her mouth still hung open, the noise that was coming out of Wulfstan's mouth ceased. It was a pathetic sight. A disgusting one. Varrot wanted it as far away from her as humanly possible. She didn't want that 'thing' in the chair anywhere near her. She'd been far too sympathetic before. Not anymore. "Quite frankly I'm disgusted that someone would stoop to such a level, and I'm more than a little bit ashamed that it was someone under my own command." Before she knew it, she was pacing again. There was no way she could have stood still through that. The venom in her eyes was matched only by the fire she shot from her mouth. Her prey was terrified. "Gallia has a strict policy written when dealing with war crimes, and I personally take those rules very seriously. The murder of POWs is not tolerated by those rules, and I will not tolerate it myself. As I see it, my duty should be to have you court-martialed and put in front of a firing squad."

Hearing a loud sniff, the captain watched as a tear began to roll down Wulfstan's cheek. As if she had any right to cry. Varrot would never know the number of tears that would be justly shed throughout the war. She would know the number that hadn't. Trying to keep herself focused, she took one last look at the desk drawer in front of her. It taunted her. That was it. There was no such thing as justice in the world. "Fortunately for you I'm not going to be getting my way." Finally planting both feet on the ground, she stood with her palms once more flat on the desk. "Ever since the labor camps were found at Fouzen command has taken a policy of ignoring war crimes committed by Gallians. Even if I did turn you in it wouldn't come to anything. Normally I'd do it anyway on principle, but I need every hand I've got holding a rifle, and as despicable as I find you you're no exception."

Marina had stopped sniffling, but Varrot could still see a tear or two escape her eyes. Each one killed her inside. If she didn't start talking again she'd probably shed a few tears herself. "I'd never known her personally," she said quieter, taking the venom out of her tone, "but from the times I'd spoken with her over the past few months I found Staff Sergeant O'Hara to be a very competent leader, and I'd grown to respect her." Of the many platoon commanders within her battalion, Captain Varrot had gotten to know at least most of them. She'd held a genuine respect for Catherine. The woman was everything Marina wasn't. Patient, competent, confident… the list could go on. "She was a good woman and a great platoon commander, and when she said something I listened." Taking off her glasses, she gently set them down on the desk. "She had some very serious qualms about you leading one of her sections. Quite honestly I agree with her sentiments."

She was coming down off her high. As each moment passed she could feel the strength leave her body, and her arm got heavier and heavier as it crept towards the desk drawer. If this wasn't a career low, it was close. Damn close. "Unfortunately my hands are tied," she said as she pulled it open and tossed its contents onto the table. "These are for you."

Marina's eyes focused for the first time on the desk's surface. "I don't understand."

"Yeah," Varrot mumbled. "That makes two of us."

It looked as if Marina's stomach had just dropped out. Varrot was sure she'd just lost her own. Reaching forward, the sniper grabbed the patch off of the flat surface. There were three chevrons and a pair of crossed rifles on it. "Why?"

"It's not by my choice, I can assure you of that." Feeling her legs weaken, the captain sat back down in her chair. "Regardless, I'm promoting you to pay grade E-5. You'll be working under Staff Sergeant Caird as his platoon sergeant. Trooper Calvey will take your position as section leader."

Cocking her head in disbelief, Marina stared at the rank insignia in her hands. "I still don't understand," she said weakly. "Why me?"

Varrot rolled her eyes. Her voice came out more irritated than anything else. "Because I've got ranks to fill and only so many bodies to fill them with. Even if I didn't want to give you the position the only other person in line for it is incapacitated." She was tired now. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been so tired. "Besides," Varrot continued with a sigh, "I spoke with Staff Sergeant Caird before you came in. He practically begged me to give _you _billet. God knows why…"

She couldn't let Wulfstan leave like this. If she did she'd never forgive herself. There was nothing she could do about the rank. Forget about it. She had to move on to something else and show that even if Marina could walk out of her office a free woman she wouldn't be so lucky the next time. Varrot needed leverage, and she knew exactly where to find it. All she needed was a little more strength and it would be done with. "I urge you to keep in mind that your actions here within the Militia aren't only affecting yourself."

Marina dropped her gaze to the floor again. "Yes, sir," she said meekly. "I… I know that."

"I want you to keep in mind that I'm going to be keeping a _very _close eye on you from now on."

"Yes, sir."

Marina's eyes were still on the ground. That wouldn't do. Not for this. "Look at me." With a quick glance, Marina's eyes fell over the captain for a brief moment before moving to the shells in the corner of the room. Whatever she saw in the shells, they weren't what Varrot wanted her looking at. "Look at me, sergeant." Once again, Marina's eyes lifted for a brief moment before falling back out of contact. That was more than the captain could take. "Those shells aren't going to help you here, Wulfstan. Neither is the floor. Now pull yourself together and look at _me."_

Finally, Marina lifted her eyes and kept them there. Varrot made sure she was greeted with the fullest, most furious glare she'd ever shot anybody. "Don't you ever shoot one of my men again," she growled. "Under _any _circumstances. Do you understand me, sergeant?"

For a second it looked like the woman was going to start crying again. That would have been too much for Varrot to stomach. She'd spill what little she'd eaten in the past two days all over the desk in front of her. Thankfully, there weren't any more tears. "Yes, sir," the woman answered instead.

Instead of letting her go straight away, Varrot made her wait. She kept the full intensity of her glare trained on the woman. She wanted her to feel this – to make it hurt. No matter what else happened throughout the war, she wanted Wulfstan to remember this moment. For the rest of whatever life Marina lived, she'd always have nightmares of a certain Militia captain showing the woman her place. Militiamen were people. They had souls, feelings, needs, and desires, and Varrot would show them the respect they deserved for serving Gallia honorably. Wulfstan was property, and she wanted her to know exactly whose pocket she was being stored in. When it looked like Marina was just about to break down again, Varrot decided she herself couldn't take any more of the woman's face. Her stomach wasn't going to last much longer. "Get out of my office."

Marina didn't need to be ordered twice. As soon as the command had left her superior's mouth, the woman was on her feet. After a quick salute, she made the quickest dash out of the makeshift office that Varrot had ever seen. It should have made her feel better. Instead, the captain collapsed back into her seat. Everything ached. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been this tired. It had probably only been since Fouzen. Still, she knew her night wasn't over yet. There was at least one more person she needed to talk to. "Aisha," she called out into the hall.

"Yes, sir!"

Within moments, the young girl was standing in front of her. Smiling weakly, Varrot gave the girl a slight nod. "Go find Lieutenant Gunther for me. Tell him I need to speak with him."

"Yes, sir!"

The girl always had so much energy. Varrot had made sure that at least the girl had gotten enough sleep and time for rest, but it was still a wonder that she could keep going like she did. At least somebody in her battalion was doing their job. Leaning back in her chair, the woman took a moment to close her eyes. When she opened them again Welkin was standing in front of her. "Captain," he said with a concerned look on his face. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Lieutenant," she said. "Just thinking." That should cover her tracks. She must have dozed off while waiting. Not a good sign. Whether she felt she had the time or not, she took a mental note to force herself into some rest after she was finished with the Lieutenant. It would be dangerous for everyone if she kept running herself ragged like that. Welkin still came first. "How's your Squad doing?"

Welkin wasn't looking his best himself. He too had bags under his eyes, and his hair was a mess. The man was wearing gloves, but he had what looked like oil and grease stains all up and down his sleeves and on his stomach and chest. "As well as we need to be doing, sir," he replied. "A bit beat up at the moment, but we'll pull through."

Varrot nodded. "Do you have a count on casualties?"

For a moment Welkin looked lost. When he realized he needed to give her an answer he snapped back to attention. "Oh," he said absently. "Yes, sir." Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a folded sheet of paper. When he began read off of it, the captain noted that his eyes didn't move across the wording. "As of the start of the Marberry operation, we stand at sixteen wounded, three missing, and…" He paused for a moment and refolded the paper before going on. "And ten dead."

Varrot understood his hesitation. His own sister was one of the ten. It was going to be a rough time for Squad 7. That would have to wait. Right now they had a job to do, and it was her job to make sure that they did it. After Welkin had fallen silent, the captain nodded her head in thought. "We're moving again tomorrow morning," she said softly. "Their recent counterattack left the Imperials open, and we're taking the opportunity to push them out of the city. If all goes well we'll have taken all of our objectives here by tomorrow night."

"Yes, sir."

"I'm going to need Squad 7 on the front. You guys have taken the heaviest casualties out of my Squads, but I need every Militiaman I can get out there."

Nodding himself, Welkin took a moment to clear his throat. "We'll be ready."

"I didn't doubt it." Lieutenant Gunther looked about as tired as she felt. If they were going on the offensive tomorrow everyone combat ready would need to be well rested. "Grab some sack time, Lieutenant. Make sure your men do the same. I'll call for you before the assault. Until then you're dismissed."

"Sir." With a salute, Welkin turned and walked out through the door. Rest. That sounded amazing. There was still so much to do, but the captain had just about given up on getting any of it done without a quick nap. Her mind wouldn't focus anyway. Convincing herself that any work she tried to get done now would be done so horribly wrong in her current state that it would have to be redone later anyway, she leaned forward against the desk and closed her eyes.

* * *

Softly letting the heavy door fall shut behind her, Sergeant Marina Wulfstan stepped out of the makeshift command post and into the cool night air. "Fuck."

* * *

Next Engagement: Nicomachean Excess


	34. Nicomachean Excess

**Engagement 34: Nicomachean Excess**

The first one went down easy. All it had taken was a single four round burst to the chest. After that he wasn't getting back up. His buddy, on the other hand, had a little bit of fight in him. He took three before going down, and even then he'd still been reaching for the rifle he'd dropped on the ground next to him. It took just one shell from Yoko's shotgun to convince him that he wasn't getting off of his back again. He didn't argue much more after that.

That was five floors ago though, and Jane hadn't pulled her trigger since. She hadn't even put her finger on it. With her Mags in front of her face, she could clearly see the weapon's safety out of the corner of her eye. It was on. That was a shame. A safe shame, but a shame nonetheless. Two in a day wasn't bad at all though, so whatever else happened she at least had that going for her. Even though Yoko had technically dealt the killing blow on the second, her involvement in the struggle amounted to little more than an assist. If she hadn't stepped in Jane would have taken the Imp down for good with another burst anyway. She didn't mind too much that Yoko got the final word in – those shotguns were a sight to behold at close ranges. The lancer didn't get the chance to use the weapon for anti-personnel purposes often anyway, and she'd been in the B zone – the sweet spot. Her pellets had enough time to develop a pattern, but not enough to spread out too far. The result spoke for itself. There was a time not too long ago when sights like that would have given Jane nightmares for months. Now she just didn't care.

"Alright, take her up a floor."

The voice from behind came from Sergeant Coren. She was a good woman, and Jane respected her for that. Staff Sergeant Zaka may have been the platoon commander, but ask any one of its members and they would have claimed it belonged to Juno. If ever a job needed done, Juno was there to make sure they did it. She was gentle, kind, sweet, and never swore. She even said her prayers every night before hitting the sack. It was good to see people holding on to the little things. Jane almost had a hard time seeing her as platoon sergeant. Somehow the sweet, kind, and gentle woman held a position in which it was her duty to order people to kill. In a way it was almost funny. She did that job though, and she did it well. It seemed even Juno wasn't unwilling to get her hands dirty if the mission called for it.

Keeping her weapon aimed in front of her, Jane took the steps one by one. The stairway was narrow and open, and it turned back around before hitting the next floor. It wouldn't be a good place to get caught in a firefight. She hadn't seen any movement on the floor above through the narrow gap she'd been looking through, but that didn't mean the area near the staircase was clear. That area wasn't her problem though. As the first one up, her job was to secure the area directly ahead of her. It was Vyse's job in the second position to secure the second row of stairs next to them, and Alex's job just behind him to secure the loft above. She didn't even bother looking in their areas of responsibility – they'd seen her through staircases before, and she trusted them to see her through another. They did.

When she hit the landing, Jane turned around and began to ascend the second flight. With Vyse and Alex following behind her she stepped off of the stairs and began clearing the area around the stairwell. As the other two troopers moved into their own positions, Jane turned back towards the next flight. Lifting her Mags again, she scanned the area and the spaces between the railings above her. "We're all good here," she said.

"Entryway's clear," Vyse replied. He had to speak over the sound of the rest of the section moving up the stairs and out into the room beyond the stairwell. With all of their casualties in the past week, Squad 7 boiled down to most of Rosie's section and whatever stragglers from the other units they could pull together. Elysse was the only representative from 1st section, and there were a handful of troopers from 3rd and 4th. Having stepped out of his tank, Zaka was leading the unit on foot as they moved from floor to floor and cleared the high-rise. While Squad 7 was thrown into the assault group, Captain Varrot hadn't completely thrown them under the bus. Once the building was cleared the 7s wouldn't be moving forward with the rest of the battalion. Instead they'd be providing sniper support for the rest of the Squads as they cleared their designated chunk of property. Taking a quick moment to glance towards the troops stepping up the stairs she'd already traversed, her eyes fell on the young marksman the unit had brought along with them. Oscar Bielert. Smiling slightly, Jane brought her eyes back to the staircase rising above her. Their work was far from over, and they hadn't even gotten to the good part.

"Hey, watch that window."

"Yeah, yeah."

There wasn't anything going on up the stairwell. Everything interesting was happening behind her. Jane could hear the voices of her section as they searched the rest of the floor, and she couldn't deny that she was slightly jealous. She wasn't put off by the fact that if they found anything she'd be missing some action – at least not entirely. The unit was a team, and she knew that. If they weren't working in tandem they would be completely ineffective. As such, any kill the platoon scored was a kill she scored, and vice versa. She didn't mind covering her sectors while the rest of the unit got to fire their weapons. Even if she went an entire day without putting her finger on the trigger she'd be content so long as she'd fulfilled her own duties within the unit. So long as everyone did their own job, everyone would make it through the day. She'd trade any number of kills for that, and she'd do so happily.

It was her arms that made her jealous. Jane had been covering the stairwell the entire trip up the high-rise, and each floor had to have been cleared along the way. That meant she had to hold her Mags up practically above her head while the rest of the unit swept the building. It wasn't comfortable, but if any threats poked their weapons trough the narrow gap between the staircases she'd need to be ready. If she wasn't, somebody could find themselves in a mess of trouble. As much as her arms ached she wasn't going to let that happen.

"Anything interesting up there?" a young voice asked behind her.

"Nah," she replied with a smile. The voice had belonged to Oscar. He was a good kid. If Jane had her way he wouldn't have been anywhere near the war. Unfortunately, there were a lot of things Jane wanted that just hadn't happened over the past six months. Oscar picking up a rifle was the least of them. "Nothing at all. It's better that way though. Maybe we'll get lucky and find the rest of the place empty."

"Maybe."

She didn't want to take her eyes off of the space above her for long, but Jane granted herself a quick glance back. Oscar stood directly behind her along with Yoko, and the rest of the makeshift platoon stood just outside of the stairwell in an open room that served as the floor's main hall. She could hear movement from beyond the areas she could see from where she stood, but she couldn't make much out – a door being opened, gear rustling, some voices… not much else. Her eyes were back on her sights before she could take everything in. "How about down here," she asked. "Anything interesting?"

"More of the usual," he said. "Just a lot of moving around and checking things out. Coren's on the radio. I thought I heard something about a tank in the area."

After Oscar had finished speaking, Yoko's voice cut in. "I heard tanks, plural."

"I don't doubt it." With her Mags still aimed above her, Jane tried to concentrate more on her surroundings and less on the aching in her arms. She was only marginally successful. "Feels good to be out of the line of fire for a moment though, eh?"

"Yeah," Oscar agreed a little too quickly. Jane could hear him clear his throat before he continued on. "I mean, it's only fair that the other Squads get their shot at racking up some kills, right?"

"I guess fair's fair," she said with a light laugh.

A woman's sigh sounded off from behind. "I wouldn't mind taking another shot at some armor though. I haven't had a decent shot on a tank in weeks."

"War's not over yet, Martens." Slacking a bit, Jane rolled her shoulder. The barrel of her Mags drew a small loop in the air as her movement pressed against the weapon's butt. "You'll get another chance."

"Yeah, well. Probably not here."

"Probably not." As far as Jane was concerned that was a good thing. A week's worth of fighting in the city had been far more than enough for her. The only other heavy city fighting Squad 7 had encountered up to that point was Vasel, and she hadn't been around for that. After a few operations with the Squad she was sure she'd seen everything. When the unit moved in on Fouzen she was certain they'd be in for an urban operation, but II Corps had been assigned with securing the railways and the Darcsen camps around the outskirts of the region, not the city itself. While she'd been disappointed at the time, she realized as soon as they'd stepped foot into Rodez that not being assigned Fouzen proper had been a blessing in disguise. The city had seen a heavy shelling before the Imperials took it the first time, and then it had seen a second shelling before the Gallians stepped in to take it back. Most of the city stood in ruins, and it would be difficult to walk down a street without seeing at least one bombed out building or a street full of debris. The fighting hadn't stopped, either. Feeling a light vibration, Jane shuddered as a low rumble made its way to her ears from outside. "You hear that?"

"Arty," Oscar replied in a low voice.

"Yeah."

"I wouldn't worry too much," Yoko said. "Those rounds are outgoing."

Keeping her weapon raised, Jane took her hand from off of the foregrip and placed it on the staircase's railway. She could feel the vibrations from the blasts outside reverberate through the cool metal. They were Gallia's own shells, and they were falling on one of Gallia's own cities. She'd heard stories of the Imperials shelling territories within their own borders. They'd blasted at the capital of Fhirald for a week straight, and they'd nearly leveled the entire province of Chechen. Now Gallia was doing the same to Rodez – hundreds of homes leveled by their country's own weapons. "I know."

Despite the sadness brought on by the sound of the explosions, she felt a bit better when she felt a pat on her shoulder. Jane didn't have to look to know that it was Oscar. She'd have to thank him later. The trooper had no idea where she would be if it weren't for Hannes and the young man next to her, but she knew it wouldn't have been a good place. A lot about her had changed in the past few months, but those two had been able to keep her mostly grounded. Still, the fact that she was holding a weapon at all spoke wonders – she hated guns. Always had.

Whether Jane liked the object in her hands or not, it was there, and as long as it was in her possession she'd use it. It was the Imperials' fault she was wielding the thing in the first place, and she had no qualms about pointing its barrel in their direction. Killing people was one thing. Killing Imps was something completely different. She didn't mind the latter so much. It was her profession now, after all. Flowers were useless. Beautiful, but useless. Guns were ugly, horrid machines. They were loud, deadly, and she hated absolutely everything about them. She had a million and one uses for them though.

Looking down her sights, Jane was pulled out of her thoughts when she saw something moving above her. It had only been a flash, but she was sure she'd seen a hand over the railing of the floor above them for a brief moment. The city was supposed to be empty of noncombatants, and the Gallians hadn't moved up to that floor yet. There weren't many other options left. Still keeping her weapon raised and her eyes down the sights, she threw her left hand back behind her. Though she'd let it go blindly, it found its way to Oscar's shoulder. "Got something?" he asked after the contact.

"I caught a hand over the railing." Now that she had Oscar's attention she put her hand back on the foregrip of her Mags. "Go get Coren."

With only the rustling of the boy's gear to notify her of his departure, Oscar rushed out of the stairwell and into the main body of the floor. Within just a few seconds the sound of more approaching gear came floating back into her ears. Though nobody moved in front of her, Jane could hear at least three troopers stepping into the space behind her. "You saw something?"

Jane didn't turn towards Juno's voice. "I had a hand over the railing."

"Hm." Though Juno didn't step forward, Jane could see her lean out around her. Looking up, Juno's head came to a stop just under Jane's weapon. "Where?"

"Just above us, one floor," Jane said. "Right where my barrel's pointed."

The head under Jane's weapon swiveled around. It looked like Juno was trying to get a better view of the floor above them without having to step forward, but what little Jane caught of the expression on her face showed that she wasn't having much luck. There was something up there, but they'd be going in blind. "Alright," the woman finally sighed. "Hold here. We're just about finished with this floor. Once Zaka gives the all clear we'll push forward. In the meantime, if you see anything moving up there again shoot first. I'll deal with any paperwork later."

Jane smirked. "Sounds good to me." Glancing down slightly, she could see the top of Juno's head disappear from vision. When she left, none of the other troopers that had moved in with her followed. Running her tongue across her teeth, Jane thought about taking the next floor. There was something up there, and she was tired of covering the staircase. A bit of Imp hunting might do her a little good. "Hey Vyse," she quietly said without taking her eyes off of the railing above her. "You there?"

"Yeah," a voice called back, "what's up?"

Rocking on her feet, Jane inched half a step forward. She still couldn't see anything. "When we hit the next floor would you mind taking the stairs? My arms are getting tired."

Vyse chuckled a bit. Though Oscar's laugh put her a bit more at ease, Vyse's carefree attitude worked wonders as well. There wasn't a person in the Squad who didn't feel a little better about charging a machinegun with the man next to them. "Isn't it a bit convenient for your arms to tire out as soon as you catch sight of a target?"

"Yeah," Jane replied with a chuckle of her own. "I guess it is. But come on. I'll owe you one."

Jane was surprised to hear him laughing. He'd been close to the platoon's medic Fina, and with her missing he hadn't been at his brightest. That didn't seem to slow him down. "Sure thing," he said. "I understand you've got needs. You want to get your kicks go ahead, I've got you covered."

"Thanks." Now there was nothing to do but wait. She really had been telling the truth – at least partially. While the thought of racking up a third tally for the day was extremely appealing, she wouldn't have asked Vyse to switch duties with her if her arms hadn't been screaming at her for a break. She could and would have covered the stairway all the way up to the roof if she'd had to, but seeing that hand presented an excuse to change things up a bit. Switching the routine was never bad on its own, either. Covering the stairs was boring work for the most part, and she didn't want to grow complacent. That wouldn't have been good for anyone, least of all herself.

When Juno walked back into the stairwell Jane could hear a number of other of troopers come in with her. They weren't being particularly quiet, and it was likely that anybody who was waiting for them on the floor above had already heard the group coming. That was something they were going to have to work on. She'd tell Rodriguez to drill the Squad on staying quiet when clearing buildings when they made it back to Randgriz. When the movement behind her stopped she readied herself to move. There had only been two Imperials on the first floor of the high-rise, but she'd seen at least one hand from above. That put at least one more target between them and the roof, and Imps didn't travel alone.

Jane had been waiting for Juno's voice, but it never came. Instead, the order came from Zaka himself. "OK Turner, push it up a little bit." With a pat on the back she was good to go. Once again she ignored everything that wasn't directly in front of her. Alex and Vyse would take care of that. As she rounded the bend, she prepared herself for any suits of armor that might be pointing a weapon in her direction. Nobody was there. When she'd finished climbing the stairs she stepped forward to give Alex and Vyse enough room to get off of the steps. Vyse would need to cover the next floor, and Alex wouldn't want to be left stuck on the flight with nowhere to go. The stairwell was clear. Hitting the wall, she let Vyse sidestep her and move to the next flight.

The doorway to the main floor was just in front of her. Looking back, she checked to make sure the rest of the platoon had followed the three shocktroopers up. When she saw the long line of blue uniforms winding up the stairway she brought her attention back to the empty space in the wall in front of her. If the Imps hadn't moved to a higher floor they'd be somewhere on the other side. That suited her just fine. When she felt the next pat on her back, she stepped forward and rounded her way through.

Nothing immediately jumped out at her, but that didn't stop her. If nothing else, Jane never forgot the first rule – never stop in the fatal funnel. On her first day of Simunition training her entire stack had been taken down moving through a doorway. She swore she'd never let it happen again, and most certainly not with live rounds. Clearing the funnel, she turned right and moved along the wall, giving the next man through enough space to get clear of the doorway himself. With her weapon she swept the wall in front of her from one corner to the other. The immediate area was clear, but there was a door on the wall in the area she was supposed to be covering. Keeping her Mags trained on the door, she waited for the next command.

"Everything good?" Zaka asked as he stepped into the room.

That was their cue to sound off. As the first operator in the stack Jane went first. "One OK. I've got a door."

The other three who'd cleared the area with her began their own status checks. It was a pretty large room, but it had been mostly empty. There were a few more doors on the other side, but otherwise there wasn't much there. Paintings lined the wall opposite the door they'd entered through. From the quick glance Jane had gotten of them they looked pretty nice. She didn't take her eyes off of the door she was covering long enough to get a better look. Two and three gave their statuses in quick succession. Jane didn't hear number four. Before Dorothy was able to get her own word in Jane heard a handle turning, and the sound was coming from the door in front of her. "Hey! Door!"

Before the door swung open at least half of the section had their weapons aimed at it. The man who'd been standing on the other side froze as soon as he saw what was waiting for him. His jaw nearly hit the floor. For the first time since smoking the two Imps on the first level, Jane's finger found its way to her weapon's trigger. Her target looked to be in his early forties, and he wasn't wearing any sort of uniform. That hardly mattered. "Get out of the doorway and on the ground!"

The man was too frightened to move. His eyes swept across the line of Militiamen outside his door as if he weren't exactly sure which weapon he wanted to focus on. Jane couldn't see into the room behind him – his body blocked most of the space beyond where he stood. As long as he was standing in that doorway the rest of the room was an unknown, and unknown was never good. Stuttering a bit, the man tried to explain himself. "I'm not–"

Raising her weapon's barrel towards the ceiling, Jane stepped forward and placed her hand on the man's shoulder. "I said get the fuck down on the ground!" Slamming her heel down on his foot, she simultaneously grabbed with her hand and yanked as hard as she could. As he flew past, she turned with him. By the time he was face down on the floor Jane's Mags was pointed at the back of his head. Two more barrels were on him as well.

"Get that room clear!" Yelling now, Zaka waved a group of troopers who weren't securing the target in through the now open door. "Go, go!"

Stepping over the man on the ground, the group disappeared around the doorframe. Jane didn't watch them for long – all of her attention was focused on the man she'd thrown to the floor. He didn't look Imperial, and he wasn't wearing their uniform, but they weren't going to take any chances. If he hadn't ditched his armor as an attempt to blend in it was always possible he was a spy. The man would have to be one hell of a good actor if that were the case – he played the part of 'terrified man' very well. With his palms now flat on the ground, he pressed his cheek against the floor. It seemed he didn't want to do anything that might make someone's finger twitch. "I'm not Imperial," he said through gasps, "I'm Gallian."

Nobody raised their weapons off of him after the claim. He looked Gallian, but that didn't mean he was Gallian, or that he was at all worried about the platoon's well being. Keeping her sights trained on his head Jane shuffled a bit closer. "I thought the civilians were pulled out."

Though he was still clearly shocked, the man gave a desperate laugh. "And you really think everyone actually left? There are nearly 400,000 people living in this city. You try making everyone leave at once."

Dumbstruck, Jane couldn't think of a retort. Whether he was telling the truth or not, the idea that the entire city had been voided of its population was pretty preposterous. She wouldn't have put it past someone like Damon or some other four star asshole to say something like that so the grunts wouldn't feel so bad about shelling their own homes. Jane could still hear the artillery explosions outside. Each one hit her a little harder than the one before it. It wasn't until she heard somebody yelling that the rooms beyond the door the man had stepped out of were all clear that she realized she'd slacked her weapon. "My wallet's on the kitchen counter," the man said from the floor. "My ID is in it. Have someone bring it out."

A few seconds after Juno had relayed the man's words, Montley stepped out with the other Militamen and the man's wallet. Handing it over to the woman, she opened it with her free hand and took a look at the license inside. "Looks like a match," she said. "Is it real?"

Montley shrugged. "Beats me. I can't tell one license from another." Stepping over the man again, he began to prepare himself to begin clearing the other doors in the area. "There are pictures of this guy and his family all over that apartment, though. If the Imps were trying to fake something they sure went way out of their way to do it. He's clear."

"Hm." Instead of lowering her weapon, Juno kept it trained on the man. Over her initial shock, Jane raised her weapon again as well. Stepping back, Juno let Alex kneel next to her target. "Pat him down first," she said. "If he's clear we'll call it all good."

Jane watched as Alex's hands moved up and down the man's body. His clothes weren't particularly tight, but it didn't look like he would have been able to conceal much beneath them. He certainly couldn't have had a gun. After about a minute of pats and sweeps, Alex flashed a thumbs up. "He's all good."

Sighing, Jane lowered her weapon and once again grabbed the man by his shoulder. The action was much gentler this time. She gave him a careful pull until he'd found his feet and began to stand up himself. Laughing a bit, she brushed her hands across his shoulders to dust him off. He still looked terrified, but some of his senses seemed to have returned. "And just what did you think you were doing there?" she asked him once he'd taken a few deep breaths.

"I was…" Running his own hand behind his neck, he had to shake himself back into the moment before he could give a full answer. "I was coming out to talk to you guys. I thought you were Gallian."

"We are Gallian," Juno replied flatly.

Not shaken by her tone, the man gave an apprehensive laugh. He at least had a sense of humor, and some of the color was returning to his face. "I thought you were gentle Gallians," he joked.

Jane laughed along with him. For just being thrown to the ground at gunpoint he was taking it pretty well. She respected that. "Gentle's not exactly in the job description, sir," she teased. When he shrugged with a smile, she shook her head. Except for the two Imperials from earlier the building had been empty up to this point. Most of the residents had left, but it didn't seem the place was completely empty. That wasn't good. They'd have to be very careful about who they were pointing their weapons at when they decided it was time to pull the trigger. People walking around like it was just another day certainly wouldn't be helping matters. "Hey," Jane said to the man as he brushed off his pant legs, "did you happen to put your hand over the railing back there a few minutes ago?"

Quickly, he shook his head. "No, that's actually what I was coming out to tell you about."

"Oh?"

Raising his arm he pointed towards one of the doors across the room. It hadn't been opened yet. "There's a family still living in there. They've got a little girl – a bit of a troublemaker. I saw her run out into the stairwell from my peephole when we heard you guys below us. Her father grabbed her and pulled her back inside before you guys came up, but I wanted to let you know she was in there before you began pointing those weapons around." He added a slight smile to the last part.

"Alright," Juno said. "We're still going to have to clear it, but we'll keep that in mind when we go in." Edging her head around him, she took a quick look into his room. "What exactly have you been doing in there for the past week?"

"Oh, you know," he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Just watching the suits of armor march up and down the plaza. It's a shame the city's in shambles. I used to have a pretty nice view from up here."

Glancing towards the stairwell, Jane caught sight of the boy with the telescopic sight on his rifle. He was pretty much useless as it was in the close quarters of the high-rise. They'd have to do something about that. "Exactly how nice a view?" Jane asked without taking her eyes off of Oscar.

"Very nice," he replied, seemingly oblivious to the woman's implications. "I can see just about the entire plaza from the balcony. Back before the war it was a nice place to relax. Now I just see soldiers."

"Sounds like the perfect view to me." Waving Oscar over to her, Jane took a step towards the doorway into the man's apartment. The entryway was a bit narrow, but she could see that it opened up a little further out. There was at least one window that she could see deeper inside the room, and the man had said there was a balcony. If it really overlooked the plaza outside it would be the perfect spot to set up. "You mind if we borrow your balcony for a little while?"

"What would you ever need…" One glance at Oscar's rifle answered the question he'd just been about to ask before the words had gotten out. A bit surprised, he smiled when Jane slowly began edging herself into his apartment. Glancing down at her chest, he read the patch that had her last name on it. "I'd be honored, Ms. Turner."

That stopped the woman in her tracks. She wasn't sure if her smile had faded or not, but one look from Oscar told her she'd probably let it slip somewhere. The kid looked concerned, and he had every right to be. Jane may have been a grunt – trained to kill, fight, and die – but she was still only human. More than that, she was his friend. Cursing herself for her little slip, she threw another smile out to the man. She hoped she wasn't overdoing it, but from the look on his face everything seemed to check out OK. "Hey man," she said slapping him on the shoulder, "don't be so uptight. Just call me Jane, yeah? This is Oscar. He'll be performing for you tonight."

Oscar kept his worried expression for a second longer before letting it fade and replacing it with a smug grin of his own. "Just let me out onto that balcony, sir, and I guarantee you won't have to be looking at those Imps for long."

With a hearty laugh the man stepped forward and began to wave them into his apartment. His hands were still shaking, but he looked quite a bit less pale than he had when Jane had taken him down. "Alright, Jane. Oscar. You've got yourselves a deal." As he walked through the doorway in front of them, he looked back and jerked his head in the direction of the window. "Come on in. You can call me James, by the way."

"We'll be right behind you in just a second," Jane replied. Their job was to provide sniper support for the advancing Militiamen, and this room would do them just as well as any other, but she still had to clear the proposition with Juno or Zaka first. When she was sure the man had retreated out of earshot, she turned towards the woman in glasses. Juno kept her eyes on the man until he turned out of view. It didn't seem like she didn't trust the man, but she was always one to err on the side of caution. "So what do you think?" Jane asked her when the woman returned her attention to her. "This room is just as good as any other. I don't think we want to go too much higher, either."

Turning away Juno looked towards the doors on the other side of the room. They all stood open, and a group of troopers was walking out of the one farthest to the right. Aika was the last one through, and she flashed a thumbs up as she walked through the doorframe. "Alright," Juno answered. "Sounds good."

"Perfect." With the floor clear, the rest of the Militiamen began to make their way towards the stairwell. They still had four more floors to go before they reached the roof. "You guys moving on?"

Juno nodded. "Yeah. We'll keep pushing up to the roof. I'll leave Martens and Ustinov in the stairwell to provide rear security, but the rest of us are moving. You guys take care."

"You know us." Turning away, Jane began to walk through the doorway and into the apartment. Making sure Oscar was coming through just behind her, she kept the barrel of her Mags pointed towards the ground, but didn't let her finger fall off of its trigger guard. They'd decided the place was safe, but she wanted to see it with her own eyes first. The apartment itself was very nice and it looked as if its occupants had lived a very comfy life before the war. After clearing the entryway Jane stepped out into what looked like a living room. Two couches lined the walls, and they looked to be very expensive. She never would have imagined owning even one like them back when she was working the flower shop. The rest of the room was filled with end tables, lamps, and rugs. There was even a television. Whatever it was James did for a living, it brought in some pretty serious bank. She let her finger slack from her weapon's trigger guard when she found James sitting back on an armchair. He didn't seem to be posing any threat. It looked like he really was clear. "Sorry for roughing you up back there, James," Jane said as she came to a stop and let Oscar step in beside her. "It's been a bit of a stressful week."

Raising his arms, James waved the apology off. "No, you've got nothing to be sorry about." He was chuckling a bit, but he didn't seem to be laughing at anything he found particularly funny. It almost sounded as if he were laughing at his own stupid mistake. "If anything I'm sorry for startling you like that. It's probably my own fault for getting in your way."

"Nah, not really." Moving again, Jane took a quick walk around the room. The small lamp stands and end tables were completely lined with photographs, and a large portrait hung on the wall to the left of the entryway. It was a picture of the man and what she presumed to be his family – a beautiful blonde woman and a young girl. It caught her attention as soon as she'd found that James had checked out OK. "We'd have busted in and rooted you out anyway. You just saved us some time."

James responded with something, but Jane wasn't listening anymore. The portrait on the wall consumed her attention. It was the smile that she couldn't look away from. With a daisy tucked into her hair, the little girl in the picture was grinning from ear to ear. When he'd come out of the apartment, Montley had said the place was full of pictures of the man and his family. Jane had a pretty good idea of what she was going to see when she took her eyes off of the portrait on the wall and started checking out the other photos, and she was starting to feel that they'd picked the wrong room to use as their nest. Though the man was still speaking, the only voice that Jane heard was Oscar's. "Jane?"

"Cute kid," the woman said without taking her eyes off of the portrait. She didn't care that she was cutting James off in the middle of whatever he'd been saying. Whatever it was didn't matter much to her at the moment.

"Huh?" Despite all of the pictures of the girl in the room it took James a moment to figure out what Jane was talking about. When he finally traced her line of sight to the portrait she could hear him give a low grunt. "Oh," he said sadly. "Ashley. That's my daughter."

The resemblance was there. The little girl definitely had her mother's eyes, but she had the same nose and dark hair that belonged to the man sitting in the room with them. It struck Jane that he was, however, the only other person in the apartment with them. He'd mentioned a little girl living across the hallway, but he'd mentioned that girl's father as well. As it stood the girl in the painting was AWOL. "Where is she," Jane asked. "If you don't mind my asking, that is."

Her eyes were taken away from the painting for a split second as James stood up from his chair and walked over to where the two Militiamen were standing. Joining them, he too brought his full attention to the portrait. "I sent them to stay with my sister back near Randgriz when we heard the Imperials were moving in on the city. I had a few things left to take care of in town, so I sent them off with the intention of joining them a few days later. Unfortunately the Imperials moved in a little faster than we'd been expecting." With a long sigh, he turned away from the painting and looked Jane in the face. She could see him out of her peripheral vision, but she didn't take her focus off of the family in front of her. "It must seem a bit weird, me holding myself up in this apartment with these pictures all over the place," he said. "I usually don't have so many out, but..." He took one more glance back at the portrait on the wall before shaking his head and looking away. "Well, I haven't heard from them in a few months. I hope this doesn't seem too odd."

"No." She couldn't decide what was more beautiful: the flower or the smile. Daisies had never been her favorite, but something about the way the flower sat in the girl's jet black hair couldn't be ignored. It couldn't have been any other flower – only a daisy. Still, there was something about her smile… "No, I understand."

"Good." Now that he'd explained the room's excessive décor, a little bit of force returned to the man's voice. He almost seemed genuinely happy. "You have a family, Jane?"

It was definitely the smile. Jane had devoted her entire working life to growing and selling flowers, but on its own a daisy was still just a daisy. There was nothing particularly special about it. If the girl hadn't been smiling, the daisy wouldn't have been smiling either. It would have been just another flower. The smile, on the other hand, could stand on its own. No matter what else the girl had adorned her hair with, that smile would always be something special. Nothing could have changed that. "No."

James opened his mouth to speak again, but he was cut off by a voice that sounded much younger. Stepping in between the two, Oscar planted his hand on Jane's shoulder and cleared his throat. "Well," he said, "that's a really nice picture. We've got a job to do here though, so if you don't mind would you show us where the balcony is?"

With another surprised look, James struck his forehead with his palm. "Oh! Yeah, that's right." Stepping away, he motioned for the two troopers to follow him further into the apartment. "Sorry about that. Right this way."

Jane didn't follow him as he moved out of sight. She kept her eyes focused on the little girl's smile. It wasn't until she felt a light tugging on her shoulder that she could finally take her eyes off of her. "Hey Jane…" Oscar was wearing the concerned look again. It wasn't a little girl's smile, but it was enough to keep Jane from falling back into her trance. "Let's get out of here, yeah?"

Shaking her head, she fell into step behind the sniper as he followed James out of the room. "Yeah," she said without looking back. Keeping as close to the boy as she could without smothering him, she took care not to look at any of the other pictures in the room. She had a general idea of what she'd see on them, and she didn't want to spend the rest of the day staring at the man's family. When they'd finally left the living room behind them, they found James waiting for them in the next area. It looked to be a kitchen. Thankfully, this room wasn't as decorated as the living room had been. "Thanks," she whispered just loud enough for Oscar to hear.

With a smile, he looked back. "Don't mention it."

There were a few windows in the kitchen, and the group had to make sure they didn't expose themselves as they moved forward. Sitting on the floor, James waved towards a large glass door to his left. From what Jane could see from where she was it led out to the balcony. Around the corner she could see a couple of small chairs and a little table. It wouldn't provide much concealment, but it was better than nothing. "This is it," the man said. "From here you'll have a bird's eye view of the plaza. Anything that's down there you should be able to hit."

Swinging her pack off, Jane set it down on the floor next to her. "Just what I wanted to hear," she said.

Next to her, Oscar stripped most of his extra gear off as well. If they were going to move out onto the balcony they'd want to make as small a profile as possible. Balconies left a shooter with a wider field of fire, but they also left him exposed. They were going to have to place their shots carefully. "We've got it covered from here," he said. "Thanks for letting us use your room."

"Don't mention it," James answered back. "Anything that'll get me out of here. If there's anything more I can do to help, just ask."

"Sure thing." With his pack off, Oscar set up the bipod on his rifle and waited for Jane to get her equipment ready.

Reaching into her rucksack, the woman pulled out a large scope. It wasn't attached to a weapon, but it would be all she needed to get the job done. Making sure everything about it checked out, she turned towards Oscar and nodded. "All set here. You good to go?"

"Any time," he said.

As he inched forward Jane threw her arm out in front of him. Confused, Oscar sat back and looked at her. Leaning her head forward, Jane took a long look at the door leading out to their shooting position. It was see through, and it would have to be opened before they could get reach the balcony. If anyone were watching from outside, it wouldn't be difficult to spot any sudden movements. "Let me go first," she said. Crawling forward, she stopped just short of the door.

"You sure about this?"

"Yeah."

Slowly, and without stepping out in front of the glass panel of the door, Jane brought her arm up to the handle and began to push. It wasn't locked, and the door easily gave way. She took her time though. Although she could have moved the sliding door far enough to crawl through in half a second's time, she didn't want any sudden movements to draw the attention of any Imps below. Once there was enough space between the door and the frame for Jane to fit her hand through she let go of the handle and instead began to push the door open from its base. Anybody watching at least wouldn't be able to see her arm that way. After half a minute of pushing, she'd created a gap about a foot wide. Pausing for a while before continuing, she sat back against the wall for a couple of breaths. After another minute's worth of work, the gap was wide enough that the two grunts would be able to crawl through. Dropping to her stomach, Jane slid in front of the doorway and began to inch her way forward.

When she came out on the other side she could see that there was enough room on the balcony for both her and Oscar to lie down. If Oscar kept his legs through the opening of the door behind them the barrel of his rifle wouldn't even be sticking over the edge. That would be perfect. She'd have to move up a little closer herself, but she was alright with that. Better her than the kid. "Alright," she said through the doorway behind her. "Start moving up."

Before long Oscar and his rifle were at ready next to her. The kid sure was something, and that put Jane off a bit. He was far too smart to be wearing that uniform. There were a lot of young people in the Squad, but seeing them in uniform didn't agitate Jane the way seeing the Bielert twins did. The others were nothing special. Ted could tell a joke or two, but he didn't have the discipline to be able to do anything more than that. Montley had motivation, but all he ever saw was the finish line. He'd never get there because he couldn't see the steps in between. Cherry was just a dumb slut through and through. The Bielerts were different though. They were good kids, and smart as Hell. The twins wouldn't be stuck in the military forever or left breaking even running a flower shop. One day they'd have apartments just as nice as the one they'd just toured. They'd probably even have their own televisions.

"You guys all set there?" a voice asked the duo from inside.

Looking back, Jane could see James's head peeking around the very bottom of the doorway just above Oscar's legs. At least he had the sense to stay out of sight. "I think we're good," she said back. "You got everything you need, Oscar?"

"Yeah," the boy said. "I'm ready to go any time."

"Perfect," the man said behind him. "You need anything just ask. But you're sure I can't get you anything right now? Maybe something to drink? The water's been out for about four days, but I've got some to spare if you're thirsty."

"Nah," Jane said as she set her scope up in front of her. "Save the water for yourself. There's no guarantee it's going to get fixed any time soon."

"Alright then." Jane heard him shuffling away. A second later she made out the sound of a refrigerator opening. "That's about it. Probably not the best time, but I've got some beer if you want it."

He'd been laughing. Chuckling along with the joke, Jane shook her head. "Sounds great, but I don't think the Captain would be very happy if she found out we were covering the rest of her battalion with a buzz."

"We'll take some to go, though," Oscar called back next to her.

Laughing again, Jane brought the scope up to her face. There was a blind spot stretching out about a hundred meters from directly below them, but past that point she could see nearly the entire plaza. Armored figures ran through the area, preparing for their defense. Behind them the artillery barrage blasted through the streets, sending giant plumes of dirt and debris into the air. "No we won't," she said.

"What?" For some reason Oscar seemed surprised – almost as if he'd expected to actually get away with the act. "Why not?"

Swiveling her scope from side to side, Jane began searching for good targets. There was plenty of infantry, but for the most part they'd just be a waste of a bullet. Precision shooting called for big targets. Gun emplacements. Other snipers. Officers. Something that would make an impact. "You're not old enough."

"You're kidding."

Turning her head, Jane gave Oscar a stern look. He looked as surprised as he'd sounded. "No," she said with a voice that matched her expression. She wasn't laughing anymore. "The day you turn eighteen we'll see about getting you a couple of drinks." When she saw that the glance had done its job she returned to her spotting scope. "Until then you stay dry."

She heard the boy grumbling, but she couldn't hear any actual words. When she was sure he'd brought his attention back to his scope she cracked a small smile. Oscar may have been going places, but he was still just a kid. She'd have to keep her eyes open to make sure he didn't stick his nose anywhere it didn't belong. Jane didn't think she'd have much trouble. Unlike some other youngsters she knew Oscar actually listened when he was told not to do something.

Though they were only on the seventh floor, they were still higher than the roofs of most of the buildings that surrounded the plaza below them. One or two buildings stretched above them, but otherwise they could look down on about ninety percent of the potential enemy sniper nests. That was at least a little reassuring. Scanning the rooftops and windows of the buildings within sight Jane looked for anything that might be a threat to them. Imperial snipers would surely be looking out for them as well, and the sooner she could pick them out the better. When she caught sight of two armored helmets on a rooftop across the way, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a felt tipped marker. After pulling it out she realized she'd forgotten her pad of paper in her pack. "Hey James," she said as she slowly turned her head back to look into the apartment. "You mind if I scribble a bit on your balcony?" She could just as easily have asked him to hand her the paper himself, but it would just be another thing to look after, and she didn't want too many things to have to move around up there with her.

"Nah, go for it," the man said back through the gap in the door. "I'll call it a souvenir."

Uncapping the marker, Jane looked back into her scope and brought the Imps into focus. When she'd worked out the distance she drew two columns on the smooth concrete surface of the balcony next to her. On the left she wrote 'Sniper Team: Roof'. Next to that she wrote the range. "I've got a machinegun emplacement," Oscar said. "Left window of the building next to the coffee shop."

"Alright." Jane brought the target Oscar had pointed out into view. Sure enough she could see the barrel of the weapon barely sticking out of the window it had been set up on, and she made out at least one helmet in the darkness beyond. "Not bad. Squad 4's moving in with armor though. They should be able to take care of it. We want to be looking out for AT guns."

"Yeah," Oscar said, "I know. Still, mark it down anyway. Just in case."

"Fair enough." It was a good idea. Even if their friends were rolling in with tanks there was no guarantee that they could put a round into that emplacement before it took someone down. The infantry would have to move in before they could advance the armor anyway, so if they couldn't find any other juicy targets before the gun was destroyed it would make a suitable kill. It wouldn't be priority, but it wouldn't be too far down the list. Turning towards Oscar again she held the marker out to him. "How about you work the range for this one?"

"Isn't that your job?" he asked with a confused look.

"Yeah," she reasoned, "but that doesn't mean you get to slack."

"Oh," he said with a sarcastic laugh, "I'd be slacking?"

With a snort Jane rolled her eyes. He was technically correct – but she wasn't speaking on technical terms. "You want to be a doctor, right?"

"Well, yeah," he replied. It didn't seem like he was putting the two together. Arching his eyebrows, she could tell he was a bit confused. "Doctors don't have to know how to calculate ranges though."

"No, they don't." She hadn't brought her arm back, and she was still holding the marker out for him. Doctors may not need to know ranges, but she wasn't going to let Oscar off the hook. One way or another he was going to figure that range out himself. "Doctors do need to go to school though, and to get through school you need to know your shit, regardless of whether or not you'll ever actually use it again."

Oscar tried to put up another fight, but he soon realized that Jane wasn't going to concede on the issue. Groaning again, he took the marker from her hand and began to scribble down a couple of equations. After a minute of working the numbers and another look or two into his scope, he recapped the marker and handed it back to Jane. "480 meters," he said as if she'd been patronizing him all day.

"You sure?" she said as she took it back.

"Positive."

Smiling, Jane looked back into her own scope. "We'll see about that."

After another two scans of the area Jane didn't see anything else of particular note. Searching the plaza she decided it would be best to pick out a couple of landmarks and range them for general ideas of how far certain points of the square were. They'd be able to base most of the shots they would be making off of that. Marking down a stone pillar, a statue, a bent lamppost, and large awning, she began to figure the distances. When she was half way through scoping out the stone pillar a flash of movement caught her eye. "Oh," she said with a glint in her eye. "That's beautiful."

Shifting a bit, Oscar looked up and turned his head. "What's beautiful?" he asked curiously.

Unable to hide her glee, Jane shuffled as close to Oscar as she could manage and pointed towards the left side of the plaza. "You see those two Imps running across the way over there?"

"Yeah."

Dropping her arm, Jane lifted her head slightly higher. The two Imperials she'd pointed out were moving from one end of the plaza to the other but they weren't what she wanted him to see. She had a better target in mind. "Alright, follow their path straight back. You'll see a couple of pillars. There should be a man stationed behind some sandbags in that little nook."

She waited a moment for him to follow her directions. After finding what she'd pointed out with his naked eyes, Oscar dropped down to check the area out with his scope. It took a moment, but after he'd seen the man he didn't raise his eye from his rifle. "Officer?"

Sliding slowly back to her own position, Jane shrugged. "Don't know. He's got some kind of rank though. That dumbass that was running on the left just marked him."

Oscar laughed as he let the butt of his rifle rest against the floor of the balcony. Cracking his neck, he folded one of his arms over the other and rested his chin on them. "That's the last salute he'll ever see."

"Definitely." Finishing her markings, Jane moved on to the next landmark. "He's priority number one."

Finishing the last of her ranges, she scribbled the number into her chart and set her scope aside for the time being. Oscar had already replaced the caps on his. While it was still early it was a sunny morning, and it would be a shame to get plugged on such a nice day because of a simple reflection. Jane rested her own chin on her arms and looked out into the city. The artillery barrage was still going strong. The units they were supposed to be covering wouldn't be advancing until it stopped. For the time being they had nothing to do but wait. Whistling softly to herself, she tried to imagine how Oscar and Emile had found themselves in such a place. Their mother couldn't have been happy about it. She must have been terrified. Glancing over, Jane could see Oscar watching the suits of armor moving through the plaza. "Hey, Oscar?" she said over the sound of the shells bursting down the street.

"Yeah?"

Jane didn't like prying into people's personal lives. She had more than a few things she wanted to keep to herself, after all, and she didn't feel quite comfortable putting others in a position she didn't feel comfortable in herself. Oscar was a friend though, and one she trusted. Anything she told him would stay between the two of them, and Oscar had to have known the same was true for the reverse. If he didn't want to talk about it she wouldn't bring it up again anyway. "How's your brother doing?"

Startled, Oscar lifted his head from off of his arms and shot Jane a long look. She didn't move. Counting the plumes of debris the shells kicked up as they fell into the city, she waited patiently for the boy's answer. "Emile?"

"Yeah," she said quietly. "Emile. He's been sick lately, hasn't he?"

"Em's a tough kid," Oscar replied as soon as he'd been given the space to talk. She could tell she'd struck an uncomfortable subject. The boy's voice wasn't as sharp as it normally was. "He'll be just fine."

"Of course he will, I didn't mean it like that." With a heavy blast one of the artillery shells fell within the plaza in front of them. A number of the Imperials running to and fro dropped down to their stomachs before resuming their motion. She had a feeling they wouldn't be as eager to step out into the open afterwards. "I was just a bit worried, you know? It must suck pretty hard getting sick in the middle of a battle."

With a sigh, Oscar dropped his chin back into his arms. "He's been having a rough time lately," he admitted carefully.

"Oh?" After waiting for the sound of five explosions to roll over her without getting an answer she pressed further. "What do you mean?"

"Well," Oscar said scratching the back of his head. After clearing his throat he let his arm fall out in front of him. "You know what happened yesterday."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

She should have known. Other than Elyse there wasn't a single member left from Emile's section in fighting condition. Half of them were either dead or missing. Throw being sick on top of that and 'rough time' might come close to falling short of covering it, and at fifteen things always hit that much harder. "That's tough, losing people like that."

Drawing small circles with his finger, Oscar shrugged. After a moment of head bobbing he made a fist and lightly struck the balcony floor. "I don't think that's really the whole problem."

"What do you mean?"

"He was…" Oscar started sadly. With another shrug he brought his arm back and rested his chin back into the nook at his elbows. "He was really close to Dufor, you know?"

Shocked, Jane raised her head slightly. "Nancy?"

"Yeah."

She could feel her heart sinking. He was only fifteen and he'd already had to live through something like that. The shells were still falling on the city, but Jane slowly began to zone their impacts out. In the end she just traded one downer for another. "Were they like… that close?"

"I don't know," Oscar said throwing his hands up as far as his chin would let him. From the looks of things whatever had happened to Emile had hurt him too. They were very close – even for twins – and Jane didn't see it as much of a stretch that, while he probably didn't feel it to the extent that Emile felt it, Oscar was having a rough time himself. Family would do that to a person. "He didn't really like to talk about her much."

"He can be a bit shy when he's not looking down a scope," she agreed.

"Yeah. I think it's York who's got him over the edge though. I don't think they were as close as he was with Nancy, but nobody knows what's happened to her. At least with Nancy there's no question."

Watching Oscar moping was more than Jane could take. The brothers were too good for this kind of stuff. As great of shots as they were, they really didn't belong in the uniforms they were wearing. Oscar would have looked better in a lab coat or scrubs, and Emile could have rocked out a smock. The frown on the boy's face didn't fit either. Faking a smirk, she tried to get a laugh out of him. "Your brother's a bit of a ladies' man, eh?"

It didn't work. "A whole lot of good it did him," Oscar managed.

Jane's own smirk faded. The kid had a good point. Although the Militia took both genders and threw them into mixed units and was full of eligible – and often ready, especially considering the circumstances – young men and women, it wasn't a place to go to look for love. More often than not it didn't end well. "Hey, he's still got you."

"Yeah," Oscar said quietly.

He was worse off than he'd been when she'd started. That wasn't right. Jane couldn't leave him like that. It wouldn't have been fair. "Hey look," she said putting her hand on his shoulder, "when you get back you talk to him, alright? Tell him I know how he feels and that if he's ever feeling down he can come see me. I'll see him through."

Nodding, Oscar lifted his head again. It was at least a step in the right direction. "How much do you want me to tell him?"

At least it was for him. She'd sacrifice her own happiness for the kid though. He deserved it a lot more than she did. "Just…" Letting out a long sigh, she regarded the question for a moment. In front of her another round fell into the plaza. The dirt and debris the explosion kicked up didn't fly anywhere near them, but she could still feel the round as if it had fallen right next to her. "Just tell him I'm available if he needs to talk about anything," she settled on. "If it comes down to it I'd rather tell him myself."

It wasn't the best she'd ever seen from the boy, but when Oscar smiled again it was worth all the more because of what it had replaced. "Yeah, alright," he said a little brighter. "I'll do that."

"Good." Somehow Jane felt a little better herself. She could push further though, and she knew it. Raising her hand off of his shoulder she gave him a light hit. "And you too, man. I'm not some bullshit Pogue or just some other grunt. If you ever have anything you want to get off your chest or if there's something you need come and see me. I'll make sure you get taken care of. We're a team. Teams live, fight, and die together – except we're going to skip that last part because it kind of blows."

"Yeah," Oscar said laughing. "That sounds good to me."

"Good." When she looked back towards the plaza something was missing. Jane had been so caught up in talking to Oscar that she hadn't noticed that the sound of the artillery shells exploding had stopped. One glance told her that Oscar had noticed as well. Bringing his rifle back into position, he began pull the lens caps off of the weapon's scope. "Hey buddy," she called back into the kitchen behind them. "You still in there?"

"Yeah," James's voice came back after a few seconds and a bit of shuffling. "What's going on?"

The Imps weren't doing much running around anymore. She could see one or two quickly running from cover to cover, but now that the shelling had ended they knew something was coming their way. "I don't know how thick your walls are but you might want to think about keeping your head down." Picking her own scope up again Jane set it down in front of her. Instead of looking through it she watched the Imperial line from a distance. "You all set, Oscar?"

"Yep."

It wouldn't take long for the Gallian's to begin their advance on the plaza. Most of them had been waiting just around the other side of the building. Once there was enough fire going between the two sides that a sniper round wouldn't stick out they'd begin their work. "If everything goes well this'll be our last chance to rack up some kills for a little while. Let's make it count."

Chambering a round, Oscar put one hand on his rifle's grip and rested his other hand over his forearm. Within seconds the weapon was aimed towards the stone pillars in the plaza. "Always do."

They sat in silence on the balcony for a little while, but the Gallians didn't keep them long. One second the Imperial position was silent, and the next she could hardly make out where one shot ended and the next began. Though there wasn't as much volume to it she could also make out the distinct cracks of the Gallian rifles coming from her flanks. "Shit," she said in awe. "Looks like our boys ran into a wall."

"Am I good to shoot?"

"Hm." The fire below was increasing. It didn't sound like the Gallians had brought the tank up into the fight yet, but it was already hectic enough as it was. If they started firing now it was likely their shot would start to fade in with all of the other reports. "You got eyes on our friend?"

"If he weren't wearing that helmet I could probably tell you what color his eyes were."

Jane found their target through her own scope. It was true. If they hadn't been looking out for him he would have blended right into the wall he was standing in front of, but from where they sat they had a perfect view of the man. The view probably wasn't close enough to literally make out the color of his eyes, but it would certainly be enough to get their job done. That was all that really mattered. "Alright then," she growled. "Kill that fuckin' asshole."

Although the battle down below was growing more intense by the second, Jane still jumped a bit when Oscar's rifle went off next to her. It didn't pull her eyes away from her scope. She didn't see the hole the round made as it entered the man's helmet, but she definitely saw the one it made when it left. After it had expanded upon tearing through his armor and striking his skull the bullet took half of the officer's helmet with it on the way out – along with half of the helmet's contents. "Hell of a shot, Bielert," she said smiling to herself. The rounds they were firing were technically illegal according to the laws of war, and she'd been joyously surprised when they'd been issued them at the start of the operation. It felt nice finally putting them to good use. "Oh man, check out that splatter pattern."

She heard a nervous laugh to her right. "I think I'll pass on that," Oscar said uneasily.

"No, seriously," Jane continued, "that's better than a Pollock. If he'd have been standing in front of a canvass we'd be millionaires."

Oscar's voice was a bit squeamish. For as great a sniper as he was he seemed a bit put off by his end results. "I think Emile got all the art talent in the family."

"Oh well," Jane said. "I thought it was pretty good."

"Can we get to the guy on the roof now?"

The Imperial sniper. "Oh!" It was stupid for her to have let herself get caught up in what was left of their first target. Mistakes like that got people killed, and every second Jane wasted not picking out more targets gave the man a chance to kill one of her friends. That wasn't going to happen. "510 meters," she said glancing down at the chart she'd made. A second later there was another crack. She didn't jump this time. "He's down."

"Take his friend?"

Jane looked for the sniper's spotter in her scope. He'd ducked below the siding of the rooftop, and she couldn't catch a glimpse of him. It didn't matter much to her though. The sniper's rifle had fallen over the side of the building when he was killed. "Nah. He doesn't mean anything to us anymore. We'll take a bigger target. You see anything good?"

"Just that nest I pointed out earlier," Oscar replied. "Want to go for it?"

"That thing still up?" The infantry had begun its advance, and Jane could now see the front of a tank edging its way into the plaza over the edge of the balcony. None of the soft targets were running out in the open, but the emplacement had at least one group pinned down. That should have been one of the first things the tank took care of. "Oh well. Might as well take them ourselves. You remember the range?"

"It was 480."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

Finding the machinegun, Jane displayed a slight smile. "You're sure you're sure?"

Oscar's only answer was a pull of a trigger. Jane shuddered again as the boy's rifle jumped. Watching the emplacement through her scope she watched as the weapon's muzzle smoke slowly faded. "Oh," she said sadly, "you're a bit wide."

"Huh?"

"Yeah," Jane continued turning her head towards him. "You must have been off. You sure that was 480?"

"Wait," Oscar said squinting through his rifle's scope. "How did I miss?"

"Well, you must have been off by just a bit, you know? You should…" When Oscar turned towards her with the most confused look on his face she'd ever seen Jane couldn't hold it anymore. "Nah, I'm just fuckin' with you, man," she said laughing. "You hit. That was a good kill. Nice work."

She heard Oscar groan. Still smiling she searched for another target. Oscar's math had been right. It really hadn't mattered much at this range – as long as he was aiming for the target's center of mass he probably still would have hit even if he was off by a bit, but when she'd double checked his work earlier it came out to 480. He wouldn't be having any trouble getting through school, so long as he made it there. That part was Jane's job, and right now the best way to help the kid would be to find him another target. Most of the enemy infantry were bogged down by the incoming mortar rounds. She wanted to find a better target, but if there wasn't anything juicer in a good spot she'd resort to aiming down grunts. Despite the Gallian tank halted in the plaza below she couldn't see any AT weapons or smoke trails. That was a disappointment. There didn't seem to be any other enemy snipers out – or at least enemy snipers that she could see from where she was. Feeling a bit let down, she decided it was time to stop being picky about who they killed. That was never any fun. Finding a small group of riflemen in the far corner of the plaza, Jane was just about to relay the new targets to Oscar when something gave her pause.

The Imps weren't firing their weapons. In fact, one or two had dropped them. That didn't seem right. Looking with her bare eyes, Jane surveyed the square. Where one Gallian tank had sat before four others had joined it. They hadn't been messing around when they'd said they were bringing armor along. Two destroyed Imperial tanks burned in front of them. It didn't seem that the Gallian armor or infantry had seen the enemy's attempt at surrender. That made things interesting. Glancing over towards Oscar she watched him for a second as he waited for another target. Even though he had a scope as well he might have been able to get a shot or two off before he saw that the Imps weren't fighting back. "Hey Oscar, I've got…"

Her mind drifted back to the painting. Jane couldn't make any of the details out besides the little girl's smile and the daisy in her hair, but she didn't think the details mattered much. She'd never known the kid anyway. All she'd ever seen of the girl was a couple strokes of paint on a canvass. She did know Oscar though. Oscar was much more than a picture or some paint. He meant something, and while she wanted those Imps dead more than anything he was the one who would be doing the killing, not her. Oscar shouldn't have to do her dirty work. "I've got a group of Imps in the far left corner," she said. "Looks like they're surrendering."

"Really?"

Damn. "Yeah." Pushing her scope aside, Jane watched the firefight fizzle out below. Though there was still some fire coming from their own side, the incoming rounds had ceased flying, and slowly but surely the outgoing bullets died out. "Looks like we're done."

Oscar blew out a breath of relief. Letting his rifle fall again, he cracked his neck and let his chin fall. "Three isn't too bad for a day," he said.

The Imperials Jane had spotted through her scope began to walk out into the open with their arms on their heads. They were still moving – still breathing. "No," Jane said watching the Gallians begin to secure their new prisoners. It didn't seem like they'd been fighting long, and that wasn't how she wanted the battle to end. They weren't supposed to be taking prisoners. "Three in a day is great. I think that's a new record for us."

"Yeah, it is."

That brought a real smile to her face. The battle as a whole hadn't ended the way she'd wanted it to, but they'd done well for themselves. That had to count for something. There were enough bodies in the plaza now to satisfy the war effort. A few prisoners here and there weren't a huge deal. "You know," Jane said happily, "we should celebrate."

"Celebrate what?" Oscar asked surprised.

Jane shrugged. "I don't know. Setting a record. That we're still alive. Take your pick. Do we really need an excuse?"

Oscar thought for a moment before answering. "No," he said finally. "I guess not."

"Cool." Stretching her arms out, Jane let out a yawn. It had been a while since any of them had gotten any real sleep, and she was certainly feeling it. "Once Hannes heals up a bit we'll all go out and get some steaks or something. My treat."

"Sounds good."

"Damn right it sounds good. And hey, you should bring your brother along."

Nodding, Oscar's smile grew wider. Any residual anger Jane had felt after the Imperials surrendered vanished. "Sure thing," he said. "But if you're treating us to steaks then you have to treat us to drinks as well."

Reaching out Jane picked up her scope and tossed it between her hands. "Sounds like a deal."

"Wait," Oscar said in awe, "really?"

The kid really was something. "Of course – so long as that drink is either water or a soda."

He groaned, but Jane had a feeling that Oscar had known all along what she'd meant. At least he was still in the mood to joke about it. Little things like that went a very long way, and she was nearly positive they were the only thing getting her through the day. They had, after all, been the only things getting her through the day before – and even earlier the seemingly endless series of days before that. It wasn't ideal, but it worked. "So what do we do now?" Oscar asked.

As the majority of the infantry began to secure the plaza a small unit of men and the tanks continued on. Jane figured they were probably linking up with another group somewhere. Though it was a little more distant the sound of gunfire still carried from throughout the streets around them. Their objective was complete though, and beyond that she didn't particularly care what was going on throughout the city. For at least the time being it wasn't her problem – and if everyone did their jobs right it never would be. Still tasked with providing overwatch on the plaza below, Jane figured they wouldn't be needed again. She was glad they still had to hold their position for the time being – she didn't want to have to walk back through that apartment yet. "I guess we just relax for a bit," she said. After the words had left her mouth she realized just how great that sounded. "We'll just relax."

* * *

Next Engagement: Boredom


	35. Boredom

**Engagement 35: Boredom**

Marina walked forward in a daze. The past three days had gone by in a blur, and before she knew it the Squad was nearly ready to pull out of the city. Most of her time since the Imperials had retreated was spent with Coby. Though his back was still bothering him, he'd claimed that the injury wasn't bad enough that he needed to be evacuated to a field hospital. She wasn't so sure of that herself, but it wasn't her back that was aching, and as long as she wasn't in pain it wasn't her problem. Coby sticking around had its benefits as well. Varrot trusted the man, and as long as he had his eyes over her she wouldn't be constantly breathing down her neck. The Captain had still been an issue, but at least she hadn't been following her every step.

Looking down, Marina's eyes were drawn to the stripes on her sleeve. There were three of them now, which put the count at three more than she wanted. It had taken her a few days to be able to look down and realize that she was looking at her own arm, but once the realization finally set in the rank didn't faze her as she thought it would. It was a bad deal, and she hated that she was wearing the stripes more and more with each passing hour, but she'd also decided that if that was the way things were going to be she'd play along with it all. Marina wasn't the one deciding how things were run – she was the one who got them done when someone else decided for her. The sergeant's stripes on her arm weren't what had her walking in a daze; it was the leash she was holding in her hand, and more specifically the dog that the leash was attached to.

Walking a few paces ahead of her, the bomb dog drove on with his head thrust forward and his tongue hanging out of his mouth. He was a tugger, and he was big enough that Marina had to give a bit of a pull herself to keep the dog from towing her in his wake. The young Alsatian had been considerate enough to stay in check when the Squad had been under fire, but as soon as the artillery stopped falling around the city the little bastard couldn't figure out where he wanted to go, so he seemed to have settled on everywhere at once. Before the war Marina hadn't particularly liked animals, so she'd never had a pet of her own. Though little furry things had grown on her since she'd put the uniform on, the bomb dog reminded her exactly why she'd dreaded the thought of ever having to live with one of the beasts. Since Coby was incapacitated, most of the actual work as far as running the platoon went fell to her. He'd given the orders and instructions, but it was up to her to actually carry them out. In three days she hadn't had any time to herself – which meant she hadn't had the time to return the dog.

It might have been fun to have an animal hanging around for awhile. He'd been there for her after Varrot's debriefing, after all, and having the little guy tailing her had made things a little less bleak. Over the past week the only serious conversations she'd had came from a misogynistic nihilist and a deceptively lonely woman who was probably even more lost than she was. One was dead, and the other wasn't going to be much in the way of any coherent conversation for the next few days with as many painkillers as she was probably pumped up with. The dog stuck by her though. Conner had been there ever since she stepped out of Varrot's office. It was almost endearing. In fact, it was a little too endearing. Marina had learned firsthand that running a platoon and trying to keep a dog under control didn't work. She had to wonder how the Lieutenant did it with that pig of his. That thing was a little bastard too.

With a sharp tug, Marina pulled the dog around the last corner. After her struggle with the animal the meager supply tent in front of her looked like a five star resort. All it really meant was that she'd reached her destination, but that entailed finally getting rid of the dog. That made the place look like paradise. Struggling to keep the animal from sidetracking her, she moved past one of the trucks parked outside and over to the entrance of the tent. There was a sign on the outside that signified it belonged to the Gallian Army Corps of Engineers. At least she knew she wasn't lost. Just inside the entryway she found a desk. There was someone sitting on the other side. Marina didn't care who he was or what he did there – he was going to help her out if she had to stick a gun in his back to do it. "Hey," she said as she walked up to him. "I've got a delivery."

The man smiled before pushing his current set of papers aside and pulling another one out from one of the desk's drawers. "You must be bringing in the load of Pentolite. Perfect. You know, I've got to hand it to you Militia folk. With all the shit you get handed in terms of equipment you really get the job done. We weren't expecting this load for another two hours."

Though he'd finished speaking, Marina didn't reply. She'd understood about a quarter of what he'd said. "Pento… What?"

For a moment the man on the other end of the desk looked just as confused as she did. Staring blankly, they stood in place for a good five seconds before the man blinked and looked Marina over. Cocking his head, his smile disappeared. "Your patch says 'Infantry.'"

"Yeah."

The engineer rolled his eyes before sitting back down. In a complete reverse of his actions before standing, he placed the new stack of papers into the desk drawer before pulling the old stack he'd been working on back in front of him. His smile hadn't returned. "What do you have then?" he asked dully.

Marina took by his tone that he felt whatever she was there for was going to be less about actually getting real work done and more about handing him another chore. He was right, and she didn't feel sorry for him. As long as it got the mutt off her hands she was more than willing to push her problems off onto him. "The dog."

Once more the man put on his blank expression and stared, but he wasn't looking at Marina this time. He was looking at the dog. The dog looked back. Wagging his tail, he seemed a lot happier than the man did. "What the Hell am I supposed to do with a dog?"

"It's not for you," she said, "I'm just dropping him off here. You can do whatever you want with it for all I care once I leave."

Holding out the leash, Marina waited for the man to take it out of her hand. When he didn't she took a step closer. The man didn't even raise his arm. "I can't take that. This isn't a kennel. If you want to pass the thing off on somebody else don't do it here. We're busy."

"Yeah, alright." The man wasn't going to take the dog, but she wasn't going to be leaving with it. All the while she argued with the engineer the animal sat and watched. His tail was still wagging. Panting, he sat with his head cocked and his eyes focused on the woman holding his leash. Now she remembered why she hadn't wanted a dog – they were incredibly stupid. "Look, I'm not passing him off, I'm returning him. He was attached to our Squad by one of your men. I'm just here to give him back."

When the man looked back down at the dog again Marina couldn't tell whether his expression showed recognition or horror. It didn't really matter to her so long as it meant she didn't have to worry about the dog anymore, but all the same it would have been nice to know. She didn't see faces like that very often. "That's Burgess's dog," he said.

Marina couldn't remember the name of the engineer who'd dropped off the dog, but she remembered someone saying that it had started with a 'B'. Burgess was close enough for her. "Yeah."

"I thought we'd seen the last of it," the man said finally looking back towards Marina. "That little guy's a real bastard, you know that?"

"Yeah, I was starting to get that impression myself."

Nodding, the engineer picked up his pen and began writing again. "He's also your problem now," he said waving her off with his free hand. "I can't take him."

Something interesting must have happened in the tent, because the dog on the other end of Marina's leash suddenly decided to stand up and sniff around. Nothing looked different to her. Moving around, he pulled Marina's arm along with him as he searched the area. She had to give him a sharp tug to keep him from pulling too far and dragging her behind him. "What do you mean you can't take him?"

"Burgess is dead," he said. "The dog was his personal property, not the military's. He didn't have a family and he hadn't written a will, so the dog goes to the state."

"So take him there."

Chuckling, the man stopped writing and sat back. He seemed to be enjoying himself in the realization that the dog was gone for good. "That's not my job."

"It's not mine either."

"You're the one holding the leash, so either you find a place to take him or you take care of him yourself."

The dog was still pulling on his leash, but Marina had zoned it out by this point. Only the engineer on the other side of the desk mattered to her, and all she wanted was for him to take the dog from her. "What the Hell am I supposed to do with a dog?"

"Whatever you want for all I care."

Staring in disbelief, Marina nearly dropped the leash as the dog gave another light tug. Holding on a little tighter, she stepped even closer to the desk in front of her. When she'd finished the movement the edge of its surface was pressing against the front of her thighs. "I can't take care of a dog," she said as she tried to hand the leash over to the man again.

He didn't take it from her. "You have a family?" he asked instead.

"Well, yeah," Marina replied.

"Send the dog to them. They'll take care of it for you."

"They don't have room for a dog."

"Then I guess you're shit out of luck," he said with a shrug.

Marina shot the man a glare, but it didn't seem to have much of an effect on him. He smiled just as broadly as he had before she'd sent her piercing gaze his way. Unable to stand much more of his face, she turned away from his desk and began storming out of the tent. She wasn't bothered by the fact that she'd left so suddenly that the leash she was carrying yanked the dog's collar. It was about time he was the one being dragged. Growing more furious with each step the woman didn't stop until she'd rounded the corner and the tent fell out of sight. The dog's tail was still wagging.

Seemingly oblivious to the jerk she had just given his collar, the dog stood at her feet with his nose held high in the air. Some smell or another had caught his attention, and whatever it was coming from was clearly more important to him than the woman holding his leash. Marina was very tempted to just drop it and let the dog run off after whatever it was he was so interested in. It probably would have been the easiest thing to do, and both of them would have been happier. Everybody won. She was just about to let the leash fall to the ground when she looked back down at the dog.

He really was beautiful. Poorly behaved, yes, but beautiful nonetheless. She'd never really liked dogs, but she couldn't just let one run off on its own. The fighting had stopped, but the city was still a dangerous place. Rubble lined the streets, and the mangled skeletons of buildings threatened to break apart and fall over everywhere one looked. It wasn't a place for an animal to be running off on its own, even if it did deserve it. When the dog looked at her again, Marina softened the glare she'd been wearing since leaving the engineering tent. He really did make for good company when he wasn't being a bastard, and she did appreciate that he'd stuck around after she'd been chewed out. The dog belonged to the state now. She could make sure that he got into the right hands. Marina would have to wait until the unit returned to Randgriz before she could drop him off, but the Squad was only a day away from being shipped back. She could stand to babysit the little guy for a day.

Then again, his previous owner had asked her to watch after the bastard. He'd entrusted her with his dog. That didn't really mean much to Marina, but it had obviously meant something to him, and that was good enough for her. If she sent the dog off to the kennels in Randgriz there was no telling what they would do with him. She technically worked for the state. It wouldn't really be wrong for her watch over the guy for a little while. Dogs weren't high on her list of good companions, but it had done the Squad some good in the past. Maybe having a bomb dog wouldn't be so useless. It had to be better than a pig. Besides, if she hadn't joined the Militia she would have been living with a dog anyway, and assuming she survived she'd have to face the possibility of living with one after the war. Maybe getting used to it now wasn't the worst idea in the world.

Marina's smile faded the moment she realized what she was thinking. Conner's didn't. "Oh, Goddammit."

* * *

The incoming flashes burned into his eyes as he stood on against the railing of the small bridge overlooking the street below, but for once Hermes wasn't worried. There wasn't any gunfire accompanying these flashes. Only cameras. The bright lights weren't going to kill him today. They did really piss him off though. "This is complete bullshit."

Next to him, Cezary shook his head as he leaned forward and placed his forearms on the railing. All in all, Hermes could see three blue uniforms lined up in a neat row. Beyond Cezary, Karl and Kevin stood supporting themselves on the same small wall Cezary leaned against. Every one of them was looking down at the street below. "Yep," the sniper said slowly.

On either side of the street, the flock of reporters that had convened took aim and snapped picture after picture of the soldiers marching down the road. The men were wearing their red dress uniforms, and sat high in the saddles of the giant beasts of horses that they were riding. Every one of them had a saber attached to his belt and a carbine slung over his shoulder. They were the Gallian 1st Dragoons – Gallia's greatest and most efficient fighting unit, and the men who were winning the war and sending the Imperials into a retreat on every front they were deployed on. At least, that's how the official story went. "I'm not kidding," Hermes continued as another burst of flashes made its way to his eyes. "We come in and do all the fighting, and as soon as the place is secure these motherfuckers show up to get their pictures taken. You know what the papers are going to say. '1st Dragoons take Rodez.' They didn't even get here until yesterday. When was the last time any of these guys saw any real action?"

Cezary chuckled next to him. Hermes didn't see what was so funny. Nearly every time their unit had been a part of a major battle, the Dragoons rode in after the bullets had stopped flying to take the credit. It wasn't just the Militia they screwed over either. One time he'd picked up two different papers and read that the Dragoons had won two different battles on two different fronts in the same day. Somehow there were pictures for both. "Probably last night with all the media these guys get," Cezary said.

"Please. If it weren't for those uniforms their palms would be so hairy they wouldn't be able to hold their rifles."

"Wouldn't matter. They're just for decoration anyway."

Those red dress uniforms had proven to be the bane of his existence. Every chance Hermes got to go out to the local Randgriz bars usually ended up with him having to pretend he fought in a red coat instead of a blue one. Getting lucky turned out to be all about color. Blue never got anyone laid. If a Gallian wanted to score, he always wore red into combat. "I bet they don't even fire." As another row of horses passed below, Hermes shifted his own rifle on his shoulder. That weapon fired. "When was the last time we needed dragoons anyway? They must have gone obsolete eighty years ago. Does anyone actually believe all this crap?"

"It's supposed to be symbolic," Karl said. "You know. Give the people a morale boost."

Kevin turned his head to look at the man in glasses. From the way his eyebrow was raised Hermes could tell he wasn't as accepting about the situation as Karl seemed to be. "You don't see anything wrong with this?"

Karl shrugged. "I'm not saying I'm happy they take all the credit, but I can see why they do it. It makes for a good story, one unit winning the war. Sure it's all bullshit, but as long as it makes people happy what's the harm?"

With a loud snort, Cezary turned his back to the parade going on below them and sat against the wall. There was a light thud as the butt of his rifle hit the stone. "Has Lynn ever been in the papers?"

Reeling slightly at the sound of her name Karl dropped his head before answering. "No."

"She's been in a hospital bed though," Cezary pressed on, ignoring the rut Karl had fallen into. "You think these assholes ever get put in hospital beds? They don't go to hospitals. They go straight to the front fuckin' page." As the last word left his mouth, Karl slumped forward. His eyes were aimed towards the procession in the street, but it didn't look like he was watching it. "Come on," Cezary said pushing himself back onto his feet. "Let's just get out of here."

As the man walked off, Hermes brushed his pants down and readied to go himself. Karl was still slumped against the wall, but Kevin looked to be taking care of him. Within a few seconds the engineer was back on his feet. He still looked a bit distraught, but it didn't seem to be anything Kevin couldn't handle. Cezary himself was waiting for the three just down the road. Lighter in hand, it looked like he'd decided it was a good time for a smoke break. Hermes didn't smoke – it drove too many of the ladies away – but he imagined that if he had seeing so many of those red uniforms would push him over the edge enough to call for a light.

After catching up to their friend the four Militiamen continued their walk down the street. They didn't really have anywhere to go, but they needed to move somewhere. The past three days had been filled with guard duty and sleep. For once they had some time where they were both rested and free. There wasn't much to see in the ruined city, but a walk would at least give them some fresh air and a change of scenery. It was about the only thing they had to do anyway. "Hey," Hermes said to Karl as they rounded a corner. A little movement looked to have cheered the man up a bit, but he still looked unfocused. Maybe talking would help him more. "How's Lynn doing? You heard from her at all?"

"Not personally," the man said. He didn't look any more relieved than he had a few seconds before, but her name didn't send him spiraling into a temporary depression this time. It was at least a good sign. "Apparently the wounded were shipped out to a hospital in Randgriz two days ago. I assume she's there."

"But you didn't hear anything specific?"

Karl merely shook his head. This time he looked a bit strained. Watching Karl fall into a slump would only kill Hermes as well. He wasn't about to stand for that. "That's alright, man. They'll take good care of her there. With any luck they'll even send her home." Smiling a bit, Hermes clapped Karl on the back. "Besides, from what I hear you really pulled her out of a mess. She's going to have to thank you for that."

It took a second for Karl to react, but when the words broke through the man started to laugh. "She'd better," he said with a grin.

Surprisingly Cezary was laughing a little himself. "Putting a little dark meat on the menu, eh?"

"Something like that."

"That's my man," Hermes said as he gave Karl a light jab. Things were going to be alright. Maybe not down the line, but that was something to worry about another day. For now things were good, redcoats be damned. There was something he still didn't understand though. Struggling for a moment, he debated whether or not he should pursue the issue. The chance that he would ever come to an understanding was slight, but it was still there. Just barely. More likely than not he'd come away from the conversation he had planned even more confused than he was going in. It was a risk he was willing to take. "How's that all going to work, you and Lynn?" he asked.

Smile suddenly fading, Karl turned his head to face his questioner. Hermes recognized the look. It was one of a man who's been asked the same question a million times over. Maybe he'd phrased it the wrong way. "What," the engineer asked in an annoyed voice, "because she's Darcsen?"

Yeah. He'd gone about it the wrong way. Hermes should have known that the man was probably ridiculed and interrogated about his fiancée on a near daily basis. Luckily that hadn't been his intent. "No, because she's a woman," he clarified. "A woman. A. Singular. As in one. For the rest of your life. You put that ring on her finger. That makes her the only tail you're going to be scoring. Forever."

Hermes was stunned by the speed at which the annoyed face Karl had been wearing before twisted into something that more closely resembled confusion than anything else. It still wasn't an exact match. "Isn't that the point of getting married?"

"Sounds more like shooting yourself in the foot."

"I don't know," Kevin said. "It doesn't sound like it's his foot he's shooting himself in to me."

Now clearly stunned, Karl turned towards his friend with an accusing glare. "Kevin, you're supposed to be on my side on this one."

"Oh, yeah," the man said laughing. "Sorry."

Slightly ahead of the group, Cezary turned around to face everyone. He continued walking backwards down the street, but his pace had slowed considerably. There was still a lot of rubble on the road. "See Hermes, what you don't understand is that Lynn's got him under some ancient darkie spell. She pulls some mumbo jumbo and bam. Karl doesn't have a soul anymore."

"Oh," Hermes said smacking himself on the forehead. "That explains everything."

Expecting Karl to explode, he was surprised when the only reaction the man gave was a quick shrug. "Hey," he said. "If a Darcsen's going to be eating my soul at least I'll know she looked good doing it."

"Fair enough." From the sound of things Karl seemed pretty happy about his situation. Surely he wasn't happy about Lynn being in the hospital, and he certainly wasn't happy about Lynn being in a uniform with a Mags slung around her shoulder, but he looked happy nonetheless. It was a shame, really. The man was so young. "You're seriously alright with one woman for the rest of your life?"

"Yeah." Karl's voice was confident. He didn't use that tone often. "I am."

Poor kid didn't know what he was doing to himself. That wasn't Hermes's problem though. In fact, it just meant there would be more for him. He still wasn't completely satisfied, and that meant Karl was far from being off the hook. "And what about her? Is she alright with that?"

There was another pause before he got an answer. "I don't follow."

"Is Lynn alright with just you for the rest of her life?" Hermes asked. "Let's be honest. Lynn's a pretty good looking woman."

"Well…" Cezary interrupted.

Turning towards the sniper, Hermes rolled his eyes. "Granted you're not a dumb, ignorant, racist piece of shit."

Cezary raised his arm to wave off the comment. "Granted," he conceded.

"So as I was saying," Hermes continued, "Lynn's going to have guys offering themselves up to her for at least the next fifteen to twenty years. You think she's as stupid as you are?"

Karl nodded. "Yep."

"Wow," Cezary said turning back around. "He really is dumb. Now we can't just worry about him bringing more darkies into the world – we've got to worry about idiots too."

Snickering, Karl kicked a loose piece of stone out of his way. It clattered across the cobblestone before rolling to a stop near a gutter. "You know I'm going to have like, eight kids now. Just to spite you."

"No, no," Cezary said raising his hands. "You see, Lynn's a darkie, but you're normal. That makes your kids only half Darcsen. If you have eight kids that's really only like four real darkies, and I can handle four. You get back to me when you hit fourteen and then maybe we'll start talking."

"You realize you're just giving me incentive, right?" Karl said with a smirk.

"If I keep you busy enough you'll stay the Hell out of my way. Then we both win."

"Yes we do."

Slumping his shoulders, Hermes let out a heavy sigh. "Kids too? I'm telling you Karl, you're making a big mistake."

After everything that had happened over the past week, the engineer was smiling again. He certainly didn't seem the paragon of happiness, but even a little gesture was enough to pull through the day. Lynn was alive. Beyond that nobody knew much, but that was really all anybody needed – Karl especially. "Yes I am," he said.

If his mind was made up it was made up. Karl was screwing himself, but that was alright. At least he'd sell himself into slavery happy. Unfortunately for Hermes though, now that he'd cheered the man back up he was left with nothing else to do. They were wandering aimlessly again. "Hey Cezary," Kevin said to the man at the front of the group. Hermes hoped he had something in mind that didn't involve wondering the streets, but he didn't put any money on it. "Why do you hate the Darcsen so much?"

Fighting a wince, Hermes glanced towards Karl. He didn't seem to react to the question. It was surprising, but as long as he wasn't at Cezary's throat he'd take the deal. In fact, if anyone reacted at all to the question it was the sniper himself. Turning around again he nearly stumbled as his boot landed on a loose stone. "You serious?" he asked in disbelief.

"Yeah," Kevin said. Apparently he didn't think it was wrong to ask the question in front of Karl. The man was a smart guy, but he was a bit dense at times. Looking again, Hermes checked on Karl for some sign of anger. He didn't see any. "I mean, you don't seem to hate any of the other minorities."

Cezary jerked his head. "Why should I?"

"I just thought that was what racists did."

Sighing, the sniper turned forward again. Only a step ahead, he spoke with his back to his questioner. "Nah. I've got no reason to hate anybody else. I'm from the desert, remember? Besides, it's more acceptable to hate them than the other groups."

"Wait," Hermes interrupted. Cezary was a great shot, and in a counter-sniping role he was unbeatable. He was welcome at Hermes's table any day. What he'd said hadn't made sense to the man though. "How is that any more acceptable?"

"Think about it." Moving his arms back and forth, the sniper was talking with his hands. With his back to the men he was talking to, however, most of it was lost. That didn't seem to stop the man from making the gestures. "Who else is there? We've got some gypsies, but they don't hurt anyone. Maybe pick a few pockets every now and then, but past that they don't screw people over. Then there's the Ummah, but there aren't many of them, and they mind their own business. I can respect that. The darkies made the desert." Taking a long draw of his cigarette, he paused just long enough to blow the smoke through the air ahead of him. "I mean, it isn't like the niggers blew up half the country."

If he hadn't known any better, he would have thought that he and Kevin slipped on debris at the same time. His own stumble wasn't noticeable, but Kevin nearly dropped. Somehow Karl kept to his feet, or at least kept his feet as well as Hermes had. It was impressive. He'd heard that the engineer had threatened Cezary just a little while back. Maybe he had expected as much from the man. Hermes certainly hadn't. "The fuck?"

"I'm saying the other races didn't destroy the country like the Darcsen–"

"No," Hermes interrupted. Cezary hadn't slowed pace or broken stride. Still speaking with his hands, he planted each foot in front of the other as evenly as he had before. "You can't say that."

Finally stopping, the sniper turned in place and looked at the trio with a curious expression. It was impossible to tell what was going on in his head, but some gear or another was definitely turning. After a few long seconds of thinking, Cezary raised an eyebrow. "What, nigger?"

Looking quickly to make sure nobody was within earshot, Hermes stepped himself up next to the other man. He didn't seem to see what was wrong with what he'd said. "Yeah," Hermes said. "That."

Instead of looking repentant or getting defensive, Cezary smiled. It wasn't a joyful smile, but Hermes could see a distinctly smug quality to it. "You see? That's exactly what I'm talking about. I've been shouting darkie all up and down the street and not one of you said anything about it, but as soon as I hit another group it's suddenly unacceptable."

"Yeah, because we expected the Darcsen stuff."

Cezary shrugged. "So that makes it alright?"

When he opened his mouth to speak Hermes realized he didn't have anything to say. Kevin looked like he was fumbling for words himself, and Karl almost looked as if he'd blocked himself out of the conversation. The man was staring at a blown out building they had been passing, almost as if it was more important than their current conversation.

"Don't feel bad about it," Cezary continued when nobody answered. "They even do it themselves."

"What are you talking about?" Kevin asked, finally breaking the spell that had been cast over him.

Before answering Cezary began walking again. His pace was slower this time, and he kept himself in line with the three other Militiamen. "What was the name of that Darcsen woman from 2nd section a while back. The one who was friends with that real short guy."

"Rebecca," Karl answered without looking. It seemed he was paying attention after all.

"Yeah," the sniper said nodding. "That was her. She let him call her a darkie all the Goddamn time."

"Yeah," Hermes answered, "but they'd known each other since they were three. He didn't mean it and they both knew it."

"And that makes it clean? How about the rest of the section? By the time she was put down the entire unit was calling her a darkie. You're telling me that's not racist?"

"But none of them actually meant it. They fought together. Any one of them would have charged a bunker for her, and she ended up doing it for them. I guess they all felt close enough that it didn't matter to them."

Grabbing his cigarette by the butt, Cezary watched the cherry burn before flicking it away. As it rolled to a stop between two stones in the street he pulled out his pack and prepared to light a second. "Hey Karl," he said before putting it in his mouth. "What would Lynn do if you called her a darkie? And I'm not talking about any kinky stuff you guys might be into; I'm talking about out in public."

Surprisingly Karl laughed. Whatever image was running through his head must have been hilarious. When his fit ended, he removed his glasses and wiped them off on his sleeve. "She'd fuckin' crucify me."

"Exactly, and you guys are getting married. If it's still racist when you say it to your wife, it's sure as Hell still racist when you say it to a friend."

Hermes didn't understand how that changed anything. As far as he was concerned Cazary had just admitted his own racism. "So you're saying you're a racist?"

"Yeah," Cezary said, "but I'm only really racist against Darcsen, so it's alright."

"How does that work?"

"You guys just explained it yourselves, man," he said.

To his right Kevin shook his head. Karl merely rolled his eyes and kept walking. It didn't seem either of them had any will to argue with the man. There wasn't much worth in the argument to Kevin, and Karl had likely already expended all of his energy trying to put some reason into the man before. Hermes had to admit that he fell closer to Kevin's camp than Karl's. There wasn't a whole lot tying him to the issue. He did admire the Darcsen though – or at least he admired the Darcsen women. They were just so slender… "Well I don't want to hear you using that word anymore," he said. "Either of them."

"Whatever."

Approaching the next corner, Hermes sighed. 'Whatever' wasn't exactly what he'd been hoping for, but at least he'd tried. In fact, everything might have just turned in his favor. Karl would surely tell Lynn of the day's conversation, and of course she'd have to tell all of her Darcsen friends of the heroic young man standing up for their rights as equals and human beings. Yeah. They'd be dying to meet him. "Whatever nothing. You steer clear of the 'N' word and the 'D' word or else I'll–"

Hermes lost any focus he'd had on the conversation as he stepped into the intersection and looked down the cross street. It was a blonde. Other men wouldn't have been able to tell from the distance he was at, but Hermes wasn't just any man – she had brown eyes. Big, beautiful brown eyes. They were lovely. The uniform she wore was a loose fit, so he couldn't tell for sure, but at a quick guess he'd measure her at about a B. A B was always a good thing. "Oh."

"You're telling me," Cezary said suddenly beaming. "Let's go have some fun."

"Hm?" Cezary had never gone too far out of his way to score before. Either the woman Hermes had spotted was so stunning that even the sniper was rearing to go or there was something the scout wasn't seeing. Taking a second look, he saw it was the second. "Aw, shit."

The uniform the woman was wearing wasn't Gallian, and she wasn't alone. It took him longer than it should have to recognize the Imperial combat dress without the bulky armor plating, but once he saw it for what it was it was undeniable. The man next to her was wearing the same thing. Together they sat on a stoop, apparently taking a quick rest. There were a number of other prisoners just a little further down the street, and they were being watched over by armed Gallian soldiers. POWs. "Come on," Kevin encouraged as Cezary stormed off ahead of them. "Let's go."

"Might as well," Karl said.

Watching the three Militiamen depart ahead of him, Hermes glanced back at the woman on the stoop. She didn't look happy, but compared to the man she was sitting with she could have been mistaken for a regular bundle of joy. The man sat hunched over with his head nearly between his knees. With her hand, the woman rubbed his back. She looked more concerned than anything else. It was an expression she wore well. "Wait," he said, "I don't think…"

The three others either didn't hear him or they just plain ignored him. At least he'd get a chance to check the Imp out up close. Speeding into a light jog, Hermes began to run in order to catch up. By the time he stepped next to the other three Cezary was already greeting the prisoners. "Afternoon," he said happily. "You guys having fun?"

"No," the male prisoner said. He didn't look up as he spoke.

"Really? Well that's a damn shame." Holding his pack of cigarettes out, Cezary offered each of them a smoke. The man didn't move, and while the woman stared wistfully at the pack, she refused to budge as well. With a shrug the Gallian put it back into his pocket. "With all the trouble you guys went through to get here I'd at least hope you were enjoying yourselves."

Finally moving the woman made eye contact with Cezary. While they were still beautiful, Hermes noticed a dullness to her eyes that tugged at a heartstring or three. "Now's really not a good time," she said. It sounded like a plea. "Just leave and we'll–"

"Oh, I am enjoying myself," her friend said before she finished her sentence. He'd only shifted slightly, but he was clearly looking up at his addresser now. "I'm having the fucking time of my life. You Gallians really know how to have a good time, you know that?"

"Oh," Cezary laughed. Karl and Kevin shared a quick shrug of the shoulders on either side of him. It didn't seem either of them knew where this was headed. Hermes didn't like the looks of it. The woman was saying something in a quiet voice to the man, but it wasn't audible. From the look on her face it was more pleading. "Do we now?"

Sitting straighter, the male prisoner ignored whatever it was she'd told him. "Yeah," he said forcefully. "You're all a bunch of sick bastards."

"Of course," the sniper mocked. "Because when you invade our country, destroy our cities, and topple our government we're clearly the sick bastards. That makes sense, now that you put it that way."

Before her friend could respond the woman stood up. She was short, but in the best way possible. Hermes's heart fluttered for a moment as she stepped forward. "Look," she said, "you guys really need to leave. This isn't going to go anywhere."

Her eyes were pleading along with her voice. It was more than Hermes could take. "Come on, Cezary. She's right. Let's just head home."

The sniper turned his head and glared. It wasn't a glare of anger, but one of disgust, as if the man felt betrayed. "No," he said. "I want to hear what he has to say." Once more he turned towards the prisoner. "I want to hear all about how we're the sick bastards here. You got a problem with us Gallians?"

"You don't give a damn about your people." The prisoner's eyes were bloodshot, but he raised himself up onto his feet and stared Cezary down regardless. It didn't make the man any less intimidating.

Hermes noticed Cezary's hand edge its way towards his rifle. The man didn't grab for it, but he'd made sure that it wouldn't take too long for him to swing it off of his shoulder if necessary. Though not known for his courage, the sniper had enough wits to keep himself alive on the battlefield. "And exactly how do you figure that?"

"Are you serious?" The man looked disgusted that the question needed to be asked. Apparently it should have been obvious. "You're all sick. I've never seen anything like you Gallians. You know, I did two tours in the Federation before coming here, and I'd thought I'd seen everything. I just wasn't ready for this."

"Yeah, alright. You actually have anything to say or are you just going to cry for the next half hour?"

"Fucking kids, man." The prisoner was shaking now, and his eyes had a glossy sheen over them. He was staring straight at Cezary, but it didn't seem like he was looking at the man. "You Gallians can't do your own fighting so you send your kids out to do it for you."

Stunned, Cezary arched his eyebrows and edged his head back. "The Hell?"

"Your children. What, do you give them handguns between lunch and history before marching them off to the front lines?"

After composing himself Cezary took a step forward. The woman followed suit, placing herself nearly between the two men. She was small enough that if the two wanted to get through her there wasn't anything she would be able to do to stop them, but that didn't seem to matter to her. Lips moving, she was still trying to speak. Cezary's voice overpowered hers. "We generally waited until after math, but I guess it depends on the school."

"You think it's a joke?"

"Yeah," Cezary said with a nod, "and I think it's fucking hilarious. Two Imps sitting on Gallian soil complaining about how fucked up they are because they killed some people. I'll laugh at that, because it's your own Goddamn fault. You think you could declare war on us and not have to get your hands dirty? Piss off."

The woman was still fighting to be heard, but now she'd turned to face the Imperial man. It looked more like she was trying to reason with him than with Cezary. He wasn't having any of it. As long as Cezary was still part of the equation his attention was dead set. Poor girl couldn't catch a break. It looked to Hermes like someone needed to come to her rescue. "Regard, leave it. This isn't good for anyone."

The Gallian continued to ignore him. Off to his side, Karl and Kevin stood in an uncomfortable silence. They didn't seem to want to get involved. Hermes hadn't had any luck in getting Cezary's attention, and it didn't look like his better half in the conflict was having any more luck than he was. "Trust me, I'd be way the Hell out of your country if given half the chance," the man said over her objections. "You know what it's like to throw a satchel only to find out the 'man' whose legs you've just blown off was a thirteen year old girl?"

"Go to Hell," Cezary said with a sneer.

"And now her insides are spilled out onto what little's left of her lap and she's looking up at you like she's got no idea what's going on because, of course, she doesn't. She has no idea why she's really there or where everything below her hips went. You just handed her a rifle and told her which way to shoot."

The cigarette Cezary was holding fell out from between his fingers as he clenched his hand into a fist. Seeing it out of the corner of his eye, Hermes stepped forward to restrain him. It wouldn't keep him at bay forever, but it would certainly stop him better than the smaller woman. She had her hands full with her own friend anyway. Between the two of them they'd be able to keep the two separated until the MPs arrived. They should have been there already. Looking for help Hermes could see them just down the road. The two uniformed men watching over the prisoners weren't paying much attention to their duties. Talking, one of them began to laugh. They wouldn't be coming on their own. "Hey Kevin," Hermes yelled through his attempts to keep Cezary still. "Go get the MPs!" When Kevin hesitated for a moment, he yelled again. "Go! Now!"

That snapped some sense into the man. Spinning on his feet, Kevin ran off towards where the two guards were chatting. Hermes didn't see him make it. All of his attention was focused on keeping his buddy from running through the woman behind him in his rush to get at the Imp she was trying to calm down. He really didn't care about the prisoner – trading a few blows with Cezary would probably do both of them some good – but he didn't want the Gallian railing the woman in order to do it. That was supposed to be his job.

Before he knew it, Cezary began to slack, and a smile slowly spread across his face. He didn't find out why until he looked back. Somehow the two MPs Kevin had fetched had already swung back without him noticing and were holding the prisoner between them. The woman was breathing a bit heavy, but she didn't seem to have been too roughed up. Her friend must have been a lot gentler than Hermes's had. "Well that's more like it," Cezary said, brushing his hands together.

Thrusting his arm, the prisoner tried to throw the two guards off of him. "You smug son of a–"

Before he got the word out one of the MPs threw his fist into the man's stomach. When he fell breathless to his knees they clapped a pair of handcuffs on him and began to pull him away. As chatty as they'd been before, neither of them said anything. It wasn't clear to Hermes whether the punch had pushed the prisoner over the edge or whether it was completely unrelated to the physical strike, but he was crying now. His sobs faded into nothing as the MPs dragged him over to their post and threw him to the ground.

His friend hadn't watched. Staring at the ground between her feet she stood with her hands on her thighs. What struck Hermes the most was that she wasn't crying. She looked like she wanted to, but her eyes remained dry. They were even less focused than before. It was probably the dullest pair of of eyes he'd ever seen, and he wasn't quite sure he liked it. After a few shallow breaths, the woman turned towards Cezary and looked him in the face. "You know, there's a reason the suicide rate's higher on the Gallian front than anywhere else."

Without taking his eyes off of the man the MPs had just taken away, Cezary reached into his pocket and pulled his pack of cigarettes out for the fourth time. Fumbling with his lighter for a second, he put one of them in his mouth and lit it. He let a large stream of smoke out before putting everything back into his pockets. "I fuckin' hope so."

Turning his back to the woman Cezary began to walk away. Karl and Kevin followed behind a moment later. They were already half way down the street before Hermes realized he was supposed to be following them. After taking a step forward, he stopped and turned his head. The woman was still looking over to where the male prisoner had been restrained. Normally that would have been the time that he would have made a move, but somehow he just wasn't in the mood. It wasn't likely she was either. Sighing, he took another step forward. He stopped again when he heard the woman's voice. "Thanks for the help," she said. She was facing him now. Her eyes were enormous. "I really appreciate it."

"It wasn't a problem." Standing awkwardly, Hermes tried to think of something else to say. His mind was drawing blanks. Smooth talking women – especially the vulnerable ones – was Salinas's specialty, not his. Deciding not to try he attempted to be sincere. "I'm sorry about Cezary," he said as he jerked his head in the man's direction. "He's really not a bad guy once you get to know him."

The woman didn't smile, but she at least gave a slight nod. "Neither is Jack. Things have just been…" Once more she looked back towards her friend. She watched him for a moment before speaking again. "Well. He wasn't always like that."

"No," Hermes said. "I understand."

"Yeah."

Another awkward silence fell between the two soldiers. It wasn't until what felt like twenty seconds passed that he realized her eyes were growing on him. The more wrong they began to look the more he wanted to make them right. Just the thought terrified him. "I should get going," he said as he rubbed his shoulder.

"Of course," she said sadly. Hermes knew it wasn't his leaving that had put the emotion into her voice. Turning sadly himself, he began to walk in the direction his three friends had taken. They'd already passed around the corner and out of sight. "Hey, wait," the woman's voice rang out again. It could have been church bells.

Part of him didn't want to stop, but his feet had other ideas. He was facing her again before he had any idea what was going on. She was biting her lower lip now, and one of her arms was raised slightly in front of her. "Yeah?"

"You uh…" With her other hand balled into a fist, she hit it against her thigh a few times. Hermes could hear the light thuds from where he stood. "You wouldn't happen to have any of those smokes, would you?"

Cigarettes. Hermes's heart sank. He didn't smoke, so he didn't carry any. They were extra weight he just didn't need. "No," he said sadly. "I'm sorry."

"Alright."

"Maybe next time, though," he said before he could stop himself. "I'll bring some next time."

For the briefest second her eyes lit up. Though they dulled over again just as suddenly, the smile she now wore stayed. It didn't match the eyes, but it was something. "That would be nice."

Hermes nodded, but there wasn't anything more to say. Slowly, he turned around for the last time and began to walk. There wasn't going to be a next time and they both knew it. Somehow just saying the words had meant something though. He was never going to see the woman again in his life, but there was always going to be a next time.

When he finally caught up to the rest of his group Hermes was greeted with a fierce glare. "What was that all about?" Cezary asked.

He wasn't surprised at the man's welcoming. It had been expected ever since he'd decided to step in and stop the confrontation from turning violent. "That just didn't feel right," Hermes said in his defense. A number of things had bothered him about the argument, and not all of them had revolved around the woman.

"Did you feel sorry for him?"

"No." The words came out easily – he was telling the truth. "Like you said, they invaded us. Still…"

"Still what?" Cezary asked. "She was cute?"

Hermes looked towards the other two Militiamen for help. Neither Karl nor Kevin looked as if they wanted to get involved. It seemed they were both content with living on the sidelines whenever a serious issue came up that they weren't personally tied to. They weren't going to help here either. "No, not the woman." She'd played a part initially. Hermes wasn't going to try to deny that, but her role wasn't the only thing that had brought him down. "I think maybe that guy had a point."

"Oh fucking Hell," Cezary groaned, "not you too."

"I'm serious," Hermes insisted. "Just think about our own Squad for example. Do you honestly believe Dallas is fifteen?"

Rolling his eyes and sighing, the sniper shook his head. "There's a minimum age for recruitment, Hermes. Fifteen. If she's in the uniform she's fifteen. That's the way it's always been."

"Picture her for a moment."

Cezary closed his eyes and tilted his head back slightly. "Alright. So what?"

"Does she really look fifteen to you?"

"Why wouldn't she?"

"No," Hermes said in an exasperated voice. "I don't mean picture all of her. I'm talking about those little bug bites she likes to call a chest."

"Woah, hold up a second." Hermes had to turn to face the new speaker. Kevin had finally decided to pitch in. "That's not entirely fair. What if the poor girl just lost the chest lottery?"

"Maybe, but…" He'd already run that possibility through his mind. Something about it just didn't seem to check out with him. "I don't know," he conceded. "Something just feels off about it, you know?"

"No, I don't," Cezary said. Raising his arm he pointed towards a bombed out building. "Even if she is younger than fifteen – which she's not – look around. That's our entire country right there. You think anyone's handed a get out of shit free card because they're not wearing a uniform?" Sighing, he took another draw of his cigarette. "Besides," he said sadly. "They kill kids anyway. Remember Fouzen? You saw the bodies."

"Yeah." As his three friends continued to walk Hermes took another look at the building Cezary had pointed out. The entire front face of the home was missing, and he could see into what looked to have been a kitchen. What remained of the counter top was covered in debris, and a large white refrigerator had fallen over onto its side. Blood splatter covered its door. Moving on again, he walked with his friends in silence. They'd passed five more buildings before he realized just how deep the slump he'd fallen into was.

"You'd have to kill her, you know," Cezary finally said.

"Hm?"

"That woman," the sniper clarified. His head was hung a little lower now, almost as if he was watching his footing. The section of road they were walking was surprisingly clear of rubble. "If she hadn't been a prisoner, I mean. If she'd had a gun. You would have had to kill her."

Hermes stopped walking for a second, but his pause didn't last any longer than that. Before the man ahead of him had noticed he was moving again. It was true. As beautiful as the woman had been, and as much as Hermes had wished he could have stayed and stared into her eyes for the rest of the day, she was still an Imp. If they'd met under different circumstances and she'd been holding a weapon he'd have shot her without a second though. Even without the body armor; the metal so bulky that nobody could tell a man from a woman. Even if they'd been standing face to face. He'd have killed her. "Yeah," he said morosely. "I know."

Another set of buildings passed in silence. Hermes didn't want to look at them. Nothing good would have come of it. It was just one ruined building of thousands in the country. Putting his hands in his pockets, he took a quick glance at the sky. It was a sunny day, but there wasn't anything particularly striking about it. The sky was just there. There wasn't any real significance to it. Looking back to the ground, he watched the cobble stones pass beneath him. Every once in a while he passed a small chunk of what used to be attached to a building or a set of brass casings. They were about the last things he wanted to look at. Any which way he turned his eyes he was trapped. "Hey Cezary," he said when he didn't want to face it anymore. "Can you do me a favor?"

"What do you need?" the man asked.

"Let me borrow a smoke."

Surprised, the man looked him over. After a scrutinizing inspection, Cezary shrugged and pulled his pack out. Holding it up he let the scout take one of them.

"Thanks," Hermes said as he inspected the cigarette he'd grabbed. It was just like any other cigarette, and that's why it was perfect. Rolling it between his fingers for a moment, he closed his eyes before putting it into his pocket.

Cezary looked confused as it disappeared into his uniform. With one hand already holding his lighter out he squinted. "Aren't you going to smoke that?" he asked.

"No," Hermes said. "I don't smoke."

With a groan Cezary dropped the lighter back into his own pocket. "Well then what the Hell are you taking my smokes for?"

They were passing another bombed out building. Looking through it, Hermes tried to make out what it had been used for. A register was still intact near the back wall. It must have been a store of some sort. Whatever sign had been out front to identify the place was long gone, and any items the place had sold were either buried under the rubble or looted. In the end it didn't really make a difference. Everything was gone, and that was all that mattered. What once might have been a thriving business was now empty. Abandoned. Hermes wasn't smiling as he passed by and the building began to fall out of sight, but the thought didn't bring him down. With his hand he lightly patted the small lump in his pocket. "Next time."

* * *

Next: 3 Libras


	36. 3 Libras

**Respite 1: 3 Libras**

The wounds hadn't hurt in five days. It had been a bitch waiting for her blood pressure to rise high enough to take even half a shot of Ragnaid, and even then it still hurt like Hell, but as soon as she'd been pulled off the front the doctors had made sure Ramona stayed as comfortable as possible. They'd done a good job of it so far. It had been nearly a week and she hadn't felt so much as a sting. In fact, she hadn't felt much of anything at all. She wasn't sure whether or not that meant her wounds were actually starting to heal or that she was on enough drugs to kill a large dog, but at least it didn't hurt anymore. All in all it wasn't a bad deal. The drugs were even legal this time.

Sitting on the examination table Ramona wasn't sure whether the hands unwrapping the bandages around her face belonged to a doctor or a nurse. Usually the job was done by a nurse, and it had been done in her hospital bed in the main ward, but this time the nurse had helped her out of bed and into what she assumed was one of the examination rooms. It was at least comforting to know that something was changing, but the nurse had left her there as soon as she'd sat her down. Still blind, the isolated room was terrifyingly quiet. Out in the ward there had always been voices. She'd heard that the hospitals weren't places anyone would ever want to go, and she'd known a number of people who'd gone to one and hadn't come back the same, but so far the hospital itself hadn't been too awful. Sure, she hadn't been able to see for almost an entire week, but at least Cherry and Audrey had been in the beds surrounding her. They'd always had something to talk about.

As the last piece of cloth fell away from her face she was immediately forced to shut her eyes. Ramona almost found it funny that after finally being able to see again after a week of being blind she liked the dark better. The dark didn't burn. Shielding her eyes with her hand, she tried to block out as much of the light as possible. When her hand brushed up against the skin on her forehead it felt tighter than she'd remembered it. She would have looked around for a mirror, but that would have required opening her eyes again. That just wasn't going to happen. "I assume by your reaction that you're seeing again," a voice said.

Still shielding her eyes Ramona didn't bother looking up towards where the voice had come from. It had been a man's voice. That meant a doctor, which also meant that she might be healing. She'd been hoping before that healing would have been less painful than it had suddenly turned out to be. "It's really bright," she said.

Ramona heard a quiet grunt before more footsteps and the clinking and jingling of whatever tools the man had been carrying with him. "You've been blind for five days. Your eyes are going to be a bit sensitive for a while. I'd suggest staying out of the sun and finding someplace that's not too bright to stay at until they readjust."

The sun. She hadn't even thought about how bright it would be outside. Probably a lot brighter than the examination room she was currently sitting in. That was bad enough as it was. The idea of staying out of the sun did bring some hope with it though. "You mean I can go home?" It wasn't until after she'd said it that she realized by 'home' she'd meant the military base. Somehow she didn't feel one way or the other about it.

"Yeah, you're free to go so long as you can walk out on your own power. We're technically supposed to hold you until we run some more tests, but quite honestly we need the bed space."

"So we can just leave?"

"As long as you can make it out the door," the doctor said. Clearing his throat, she could hear him flipping through a stack of papers. "Feel free to tell your friends."

Ramona nearly chuckled. For a doctor the man was decent enough to joke around. Maybe it helped him get through the day. Either way, she was grateful for it. A little humor before he finally cleared her to go couldn't hurt. She was a bit nervous about whatever tests he'd been talking about though. Cherry and Audrey were great company, but she didn't want to spend the rest of her time off of the front lines in a hospital bed. If the doctor wasn't convinced she was fully healed and set to go he'd surely keep her there for another few days, and with everything that had happened recently she didn't think she'd last that long. "You know, I can't check you out until you open your eyes," the doctor's voice came again.

"Yeah," Ramona replied groaning. "Give me just a second." Working up her nerve, the woman took a deep breath. After letting it out she slowly began to open her eyes. There was only a sliver of light that came through the small slit her eyelids made, but it was enough to tell her that opening them all the way wasn't going to be something she was going to enjoy. Testing the waters wasn't going to work this time around. Growling, she decided that the only way she'd ever get her eyes to actually open was to jump in. It was going to be all or nothing, and nothing wasn't going to get her 'home'. Before she could convince herself it was a terrible idea she gritted her teeth and forced her lids open.

Even before she could feel the pain Ramona found herself looking at a blurry fuzz of brightness. She couldn't make much out besides the figure of the doctor standing in front of her and the basic shapes of a chair and a counter. Everything else was a blur, and suddenly the blur was becoming painful. Blinking rapidly she had to fight to keep her eyes from closing again. They didn't seem to want to stay open, and she didn't blame them. If she'd had a choice she'd have let them stay shut. She didn't. "Can you still see?" the doctor asked.

Ramona had to admit that 'seeing' was a bit of a stretch. Technically she could see, but anything beyond the basic definition of the word was probably a lost cause for the time being. Looking around the room she tried to make out any details she could. Changing focus just gave her a headache on top of the sting the light already brought with it, so she kept her attention on one thing. The doctor's stethoscope would do just as well as anything else. After a few moments of staring the object became a bit clearer. "It's really bright," she said again.

"You'll get used to it." Standing up the doctor walked over to the far wall of the room. Although everything was still a bit fuzzy the area around Ramona was starting to come into focus. Little by little the lines became more solid. It still hurt to try to distinguish one outline from another. "Alright," the doctor said as he pointed up towards a white square on the wall. "Can you read the first line for me?"

Squinting slightly, Ramona tried to figure out what he was talking about. It took a minute for her to realize there was some sort of writing on whatever he was pointing at. Probably some sort of chart. Concentrating on it, she worked to get the letters into focus. "E."

"Good. Next line."

"Uh..." The first letter had come into focus within a few seconds of her realizing it was there. The second wasn't coming so easily. "E. P."

"OK, third line."

"F. O. B."

"Alright, on to the fourth."

This one looked like a solid line. Frustrated, Ramona tried squinting. It didn't help. "O. F. B. O."

Nodding, the doctor set his papers down and walked back over to where Ramona was sitting on the examination table. "I think that's all we need," he said.

"Did I pass?"

The doctor's laugh wasn't comforting. She could barely make out the shaking of his head, but the blur of motion stung more than any amount of light could have. "Hell no," he said between chuckles. "In fact, I don't think I've ever seen anybody do worse. Looks like your eyes have a bit more healing to do."

"So you're not going to sign me out?"

"No."

Dropping backwards, Ramona let herself fall flat on the examination table. It was hard and cold against the bare skin that made contact with it through the slit at the back of her hospital gown, but she didn't care. She even let her eyes close again. At this point it didn't matter. Either way she was going back to that small bed in the main ward. There was always something Cherry and Audrey were willing to chat over, but there were also things running through her own mind that she didn't talk about, and with nothing to do but sit in the dark for nearly a week they'd been cropping up more and more often. It didn't help that they were also the only things she'd been able to picture while she'd been blind. "I can't stay here any longer."

"So don't."

Ramona's eyes snapped open again in an instant. She wasn't sure how, but she was sitting up again. The doctor was yawning and stretching his arms. He didn't seem too concerned about her condition. "Wait, what?"

"Don't stay then," the doctor said. "I can't sign my name off for you, but I'll get your clothes and prescription now, if you want. Your personal effects and back mail are under your bed. You can claim any weapons and ammunition you were carrying at the armory. We don't keep those here."

When the words had finished sinking in Ramona wasn't sure if the man was being serious. Cocking her head, she tried to gauge his expression. He wasn't smiling. "Are you serious?"

"I told you before," he said without looking up. "If you can walk out the doors you're free to go."

"You weren't kidding?"

"No."

Speechless, she once again dropped her head into her hand. The skin still felt tight, and she could feel a series of irregular bumps running themselves across the entire left side of her face. There hadn't been a mirror in the examination room. Was that done on purpose? "Who do I check out with then?"

"Don't bother checking out," the doctor said. "Nobody's going to stop you."

"Why not?"

Standing again, the man walked over to the papers he'd set down on the counter. "Because we need the space." Picking them up, he moved towards the door. "Wait here," he said before walking through. "I'll get you everything you're going to need. I have a feeling I won't be seeing you again after this."

She'd thought he'd been joking, and was only slightly relieved that he wasn't. It meant that she was allowed to go 'home', but it also meant that the doctor didn't give a damn about really helping anybody. Apparently nobody did. The nurses had always sounded so cheerful out in the ward. How could they let people just get up and walk out? Their job was to ensure that their patients healed. Leaving before proper treatment had been administered to hospital standards certainly didn't qualify under those guidelines.

Half stunned, Ramona didn't feel as if much time had passed before the doctor walked back in through her door. His hands looked full, and she recognized the blue shade of the Militia's standard issue utilities. Dropping the pile down onto the counter, he held the other small object he'd been carrying up for her to see. She couldn't make out much of the detail, but it looked orange. "Take one of these pills every three to four hours as needed, but no more than that. It's not candy."

Holding her hand out Ramona took the pill bottle from the doctor. She couldn't read the label. "What is this?"

"Pethidine," the man said. "They've been experimenting with medicines that aren't based on ragnite, and this is what they've come up with. It's a painkiller. Your burns are starting to heal, but they're not quite there yet. You'll thank me for that later."

"Well that's encouraging." Sighing, Ramona ran her fingers over her face again. Without a mirror in the room she couldn't tell what the damage was, and from the feel of things she wasn't going to be happy with it. The burns were supposed to fade though, and the rest wasn't anything a little makeup couldn't fix. It might cause a little bit of extra work to conceal for awhile but once everything healed up she was sure it wouldn't take much effort to look as good as new. "Is there anything else I need to know?"

"Nope. Good luck."

As the doctor walked out of the room and shut the door behind him Ramona set the bottle of pills down on the examination table and stood up. Grabbing her uniform she went through the pockets. All of them were empty. She'd expected as much – the doctor had told her all of her personal effects had been placed under her bed. Untying her gown, she let it fall to the floor and put on the utilities pants and undershirt. She could go without the top for the day. Carrying it on her arm, she put the bottle of pills in her pocket before walking out of the door and into the main ward.

It wasn't the same ward she'd walked out of, or at least it wasn't how she'd imagined it in her head. Everything was still a blur, but Ramona could tell that the doctor had been right – she wasn't going to be sticking around. Thankfully the room wasn't as bright as she'd been expecting. There weren't any windows. Beyond that the place was a mess. Rows of beds stretched from one end of the long, narrow room to the other. Every one of them was full. She'd at least been expecting that. She hadn't been expecting the thin mattresses that had been set up on the floor between the beds by the entryway. They were all full as well.

Having been blind for the majority of her stay, Ramona wasn't sure where her own bed was. All she knew was that it was a bit of a walk and that it would be empty. There wasn't a makeshift mattress between where she and Cherry had been stationed, so she assumed it must have been further down the line. Walking forward she tried to keep her eyes off of the beds as she passed by. The bodies occupying them were fuzzy, but she wasn't oblivious. Her mind could fill in the details.

Finally coming up to an empty bed, Ramona did her best to identify the women lying in the two beds flanking it. The one closest was lying on her stomach, and the girl on the other side was nose deep in some sort of magazine. They were fuzzy, but she could definitely tell they were Cherry and Audrey. There was no way to tell what magazine Audrey was reading, but Ramona could reasonably guess it was some sort of fashion issue. It had come up in discussion a number of times in the past few days, and the girls had apparently been passing it back and forth over her. Audrey had probably read every article in the thing at least three times over. "Hey," Ramona said before stepping next to her own bed. "I'm back."

Dropping the magazine, Audrey turned her head. It took Cherry a little bit more effort to turn, but she too twisted her upper body around so that she could see. When she had completed the turn Ramona noticed the cast encasing her arm. It was the first time she realized that it was probably broken. Nobody had really talked about injuries in the hospital. "Hey there," the girl said with what looked like a smile. "I see they took the bandages off. Lookin' good."

Breathing a sigh of relief, Ramona took a seat on her bed. There weren't any mirrors in the ward either. It was almost as if the doctors had gone through room by room and made sure anything that could have made any sort of reflection had been taken down. If they actually had they'd done a thorough job. "Yeah, they're all off," she said. Her mind drifted back to the irregular bumps she'd felt running across her face. Mina had said there would be some sort of mark, and she wasn't completely sure she trusted Cherry to tell her the truth. "It really doesn't look bad?"

"Good as new. How do you feel?"

"Like shit."

"That's a bummer," Cherry said. "But hey, at least you look good, right?"

Through the blur she couldn't have been sure, but Ramona thought she saw Audrey shoot Cherry something that looked like a glare. By the time she turned her head completely towards the girl she was smiling again. "Yeah," Audrey said lifting her magazine. "That's what really counts."

"I guess." Running her hand across her cheek Ramona could still feel the bumps. They didn't feel like they were nothing. Remembering that the doctor had said her personal items were waiting under her bed, she quickly glanced below the two beds surrounding her. She hadn't been carrying a mirror. Audrey and Cherry hadn't had their own, but Marina had passed her makeup kit off to Stijnen after she and Cezary had located the enemy sniper teams, and she wasn't sure the girl had ever gotten it back to her. "Hey, were either of you two carrying a mirror or anything when you went down?"

"No," Cherry said. "You know we weren't."

"Yeah," Ramona answered in a defeated voice. "I know."

"Just relax," Audrey said. "Lay back down and we'll spend the next few days in comfortable beds at the government's expense."

Having been lying on the bed for nearly the past week Ramona knew all too well that the beds weren't exactly comfortable. They were better than fields, streets, and floors, but they weren't anything to write home about. Now that she could see, she knew exactly what Nina had been talking about the time she returned from a hospital. Just within the distance she could see, and not counting her two friends, there were two amputees, five or so women with some sort of broken limb, another woman with bandages wrapped around her head, and a body cast. Nobody was smiling. "I'm leaving, actually."

"Cleared for a discharge?" Audrey asked.

"No," Ramona answered as she slid off of the bed and took a knee. Reaching under she could feel a small box. "I'm just leaving."

"Wait, you can't do that."

"Sure I can." In one smooth motion Ramona slid the box out from under the bed. She already knew that everything she'd been carrying on her was in it. Although the doctor had mentioned it, she was still surprised when she saw the two letters resting on the box's lid. "The doctor said we're free to go if we can walk out," she said absently. "You're free to come too."

"Are you kidding?" Cherry asked flopping back down onto the bed. "I can't even wipe my own ass. I'm totally stuck here."

"Yeah," Audrey agreed. "We're not going anywhere anytime soon."

"Ah." Picking up the two letters, Ramona tried to make out who they were from. It was like taking the eye exam all over again. There was definitely writing on the envelopes, but beyond that trying to decipher the return addresses was a lost cause. Her eyes already burned, and straining them to make letters out of the blurry mess in front of her was just making it worse. "Hey Cherry," she said lifting the letters high enough for the girl to catch sight of them. "Can you tell me what these are?"

"Oh, mail!" Cherry cried as she ripped the envelopes from Ramona's hand. "Were you expecting anything?"

She was due for a paycheck, but that would only have taken one envelope, not two. If her pay was one of the letters, the other could have been anything. Mail usually came one paycheck at a time – there was something new in Cherry's hand. "Maybe my pay. That's it."

"Alright then," Cherry said excitedly. Dropping the two envelopes onto her pillow, she flipped between them and squinted. "We'll go through them one at a time. First I need my reading glasses."

Cocking her head, Ramona tried to figure out whether or not Cherry was being serious. Apparently she was. "You don't have them?"

"No, they should be in the box under my bed. Take a look and see if you can pull them out."

Stunned, Ramona looked over her shoulder to where Audrey was still reading her magazine. The two girls had been passing the thing back and forth. "I thought you'd been reading that magazine."

With an embarrassed chuckle, Cherry brought her good arm back and scratched her head. "I uh…" With a sigh, she shrugged and brought her attention back to the envelopes. "I just look at the pictures."

Ramona wasn't surprised. While she had never been into reading books, she'd at least read the articles when she got a new magazine. Cherry didn't strike her as having done even that. Normally she wouldn't have cared – it was none of her business whether or not Cherry actually read the articles or just looked at the pictures. However, when she finally got a little bit of mail and needed her friend to read it she wanted it read immediately. She didn't want to have to sort through Cherry's junk to find her glasses. That took time, and Ramona wasn't feeling particularly patient. Sliding the box out from under Cherry's bed, she lifted the lid and began to sort through its contents.

Most of the clutter inside was just loose items or trinkets Cherry had picked up here and there or stuff she'd brought along with her. It took a moment to sort through all of the junk with her vision blurred, but within a few seconds Ramona caught sight of a glasses case. Picking it up, she managed to work it open. Cherry's glasses were still inside. Closing the case, she'd half handed it over to Cherry when another box inside the girl's stash caught her eye.

Ramona knew what it was the moment she picked it up. She couldn't see it clearly, but she'd held many like it before. Wulfstan's makeup kit. Cherry had lied about holding on to it. Making sure the girl wasn't looking, Ramona slid the kit under her uniform jacket and handed the glasses case over to her friend. There was a mirror in the makeup kit, but that could wait until after she'd found out what the letters were about. The letters would also give her time to stall opening the kit. She wasn't completely sure she wanted to. "Here you go," she said nervously.

"Perfect." Putting the glasses on, Cherry picked up the two envelopes. She didn't look at them. Glancing over the side of her bed, she gave Ramona an encouraging look. "You ready?"

"Yeah," Ramona answered as quickly as she could manage. "Just read them off."

"Alright then." Cherry turned her attention to the first of the envelopes. It only took her a quick skim to nod and set it aside. "Yeah, that's your pay," she said.

"We were expecting that though, right?"

"Yeah," Cherry said confidently. "It's the second one that's important. The first was supposed to be your pay."

"Yeah." For some reason it made complete sense to think that the first of the letters absolutely had to have been her paycheck. She wasn't let down that way. There was still one more letter, and she knew it couldn't have been her pay. They'd already gone through that. "Who's the other one from?"

Grabbing the second envelope, Cherry prepared to read it over. "You ready?"

If she had to wait another second Ramona was going to explode. "Just read it, Cherry."

Nodding, the girl brought the envelope up to her face. Once again her eyes began to sweep over the text. As they moved back and forth across the writing Ramona's stomach twisted into a knot. She'd completely forgotten about the mirror she'd hidden under her uniform. Everything but the letter ceased to matter. None of it was important. After a long while Cherry let the letter slack. She wasn't smiling. "It's uh…"

Heart sinking, Ramona let her head fall back against the side of her bed. Cherry's expression killed any hope of the letter having come from her father. Beyond that it didn't matter whose name was on the envelope. It was junk. "Who's it from," she asked flatly.

"It's from Gallian Standard." Letting the letter fall onto her bed, Cherry removed her glasses and set them next to her pillow. "Looks like something about your life insurance policy."

"Life insurance?"

"Yeah."

That figured just about right. Two letters finally shows up in one go, and the extra one ends up being about how much money the one person she had been wishing actually wrote her was going to get when she died. "You alright?" she heard Cherry ask through the blur in front of her. Something told her it wasn't just the burns that were making everything look fuzzy.

Swallowing a lump, Ramona bit the inside of her cheek and took a deep breath. It took effort to get the air down, but after a little struggle she managed to keep it in. "Fine," she said.

"Are you sure?" Audrey asked from behind her.

Wanting to answer yes, Ramona instead shook her head. If a letter wasn't coming then it wasn't going to come ever. She'd realized that long before, but it hadn't hit until that moment. It stung more than she'd expected. "Life insurance," she repeated again. "The cunt gets a letter for every day of the week and I get fucking life insurance."

"Oh come off it," Cherry scorned. Rolling her eyes she let her chin rest on the edge of her bed. "You don't mean it and she's got nothing to do with it."

Lowering her eyes at the onslaught of Cherry's gaze, Ramona had to admit that the girl was right. Her lack of mail was nobody's fault but her own. She hadn't completely meant what she'd said about Wulfstan either. There was no denying the woman was a bitch, but at least she was a quiet bitch. She was also one of the two people in the world who knew why Ramona never got any mail beyond a paycheck or a life insurance update. Even Audrey didn't know the details. In a way it was kind of comforting.

The other feelings that came with the mention of Marina weren't quite as pleasant. Suddenly remembering the makeup kit she'd hidden under her uniform, Ramona let her arm slide under the heavy material until her fingers reached the small box. Running her fingertips over its smooth surface, she looked up to where Cherry was lying on her mattress. The girl still had her chin at the bed's edge, and her eyes were still fixed on where Ramona was sitting. She'd lied about carrying the makeup kit. It wasn't likely she'd sit too well with Ramona pulling it out in front of her. "Hey Cherry," she said devising a plot to divert the girl's attention. "Could you read it for me?"

Eyes widening, Cherry gave her a hard look. "Read what?"

"My mail."

Still staring, Cherry's expression quickly turned to clueless. Without her ponytail the girl's hair spilled over the side of the bed. Along with the hospital gown she was wearing it only served to accentuate her confusion. "It's an insurance update," she said. "Why would you ever want me to read that?"

"Because it's my mail and I want to know what it says."

Groaning, Cherry brought her good hand in front of her face. "Ramona, it's just–"

"It's my mail and I want to know what it says," Ramona insisted. She didn't really care about what the letter said. In fact, she wished she'd never gotten it. At least with one letter she wouldn't have gotten her hopes up. Two had nearly killed her, and she wanted nothing to do with the extra weight. Cherry still needed to look away for a few seconds. "Look, a letter about your insurance might not mean much to you, but that's all I've got. Just read me my mail." Feeling a second lump form, she dropped her eyes back down to where the makeup kit was hidden under her uniform. "Please."

After a scrutinizing stare Cherry shifted back onto her pillow and reached for her glasses. Clearly annoyed, she mumbled a string of words before lifting the letter and beginning to tear the envelope. That was the last Ramona saw of the girl. As soon as Cherry's attention had been diverted she quickly pulled the makeup kit out from under her uniform. Even with her vision blurred she immediately recognized it as the same kit Marina had handed over just after Catherine had been shot, and the flood of memories didn't help ease the woman's mind. Holding her breath, she lifted the case up to her face and opened the lid.

It took longer than Ramona expected for her vision to focus on the face staring back at her through the mirror, and even then it was still blurry enough that she couldn't make out every detail. She was immediately grateful. In the haze the irritated skin covering the top half of her face blurred together. Even the eyes were completely bloodshot. That wasn't what dropped the floor out from under her. The burns weren't severe, and they were supposed to fade. It was the rest of her. Past the burns the right half of her face looked normal. It was familiar. The left half was gone, or at least absent in the sense of anything resembling what she'd remembered it looking like still being there. Instead, a network of dark stitches etched its way from the side of her chin to her ear, branching off midway up her cheek to wrap around the eye and come to a stop just above the base of her forehead.

As the lump in her throat expanded and hollowed the face in the reflection faded. The blur was different now – wetter. Mina had said that the damage the grenade had done would leave some kind of mark. Nobody had told her that mark would cover nearly an entire half of her face. Any hope of a career after the war was gone. The Militia didn't give a damn what the person pulling a trigger looked like, but no company in Europa would ever want a cut up model pushing their products, and no amount of makeup could hide the scars that would be left behind once the stitches were removed.

Blinking the tears away Ramona took in the two halves of her face and tried to fit them together in her mind – only to realize she didn't like either one of them. There were dozens of other casualties in the ward. Every one of them was bandaged in one way or another. Some of them had casts. Others were missing limbs. The left side of her face told her that she was ugly. She couldn't see the highway of stitches in detail, but she could already tell that it was never going to look better than it did then, and it was already looking bad. As much as it hurt, that wasn't the worst thing. Ugly could always be solved. Drink enough of something hard and anything would start to look good, scars or no. What hurt the most was the right side. The good side. Even through the haze of the burns and the tears, she looked at the right side of her face in the mirror and for the first time saw herself for what she truly was – young, beautiful, and frighteningly insignificant.

"Oh shit," she heard Cherry say from her bed. Ramona didn't look away from the mirror, but she knew what her friend was suddenly upset about. It didn't matter now – the girl was too late, and the mirror was already opened. "Where did you get that?"

For as hollow as the lump in her throat had become, it was incredibly difficult to force anything through it. Giving up after a few too many futile attempts, Ramona let the makeup kit drop into her lap. She couldn't see it anymore anyway. "Hey," Audrey said. "You OK?"

Even after closing her eyes she could feel a steady stream flowing down her cheeks. Somehow it burned. Sniffling, Ramona lifted her head and opened her eyes. She could barely distinguish the outline of Cherry's body from the blur of the room behind her. Gulping through the lump and clearing her throat, she gave speaking one more shot. It was garbled, but it made do. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?" Cherry asked. She'd clearly been trying to sound innocent, but there was a slight edge to her voice that gave everything away. The girl had lied about hanging onto Marina's mirror. Obviously she hadn't wanted Ramona to get her hands on it. "There's nothing wrong with you. What's there to tell?"

"You don't say 'oh shit' when nothing's wrong, Cherry," Ramona insisted as forcefully as she could manage. "Why didn't anybody say anything?"

"Because there's nothing to tell," Cherry repeated. "You look fine."

"Then why did you lie about the mirror?"

Cherry's uncharacteristic silence sealed her fate. Instead of the constant stream of words that normally flowed from the girl's mouth, the only thing that reached Ramona's ears was a sigh. Sniffling, she once again let her head fall back into the side of her mattress. "Wonderful."

"Hey look," Audrey said from her bed. "It's really not that bad."

With a fresh batch of tears coming Ramona wiped her forearm across her eyes. It scratched at the irritated skin surrounding the top of her face, and the sting lingered for a few moments after she'd taken her arm away. "Not bad?" she asked. For a moment her mind drifted back to what she'd seen in the mirror. 'Not bad' wasn't exactly the phrase that came to mind. "Audrey, I look like fuckin' Frankenstein."

"Oh no you don't," Cherry said after finding her voice. It was nice that she was trying, but it was too late – the damage was done. "You totally don't at all."

Grabbing the makeup kit, Ramona glanced at it for a moment before tearing her eyes away again. It didn't look any different than it had seconds ago, but the smooth black case she'd been dying to open a minute before now just sent shivers down her spine and twisted her stomach. She wanted nothing to do with it. Her look in the mirror told her that as soon as she walked out of those hospital doors and out into the street people would look at her and think one word – ugly. That was one thing, and she might have even been able to get used to that over time. She may never have been truly happy again, but she could have at least settled. Other people she could have dealt with. The real pain came when she looked into the mirror and realized she couldn't stand the sight of herself either. "You already lied to me once, Cherry," she said as she stuffed the makeup kit back into Cherry's box of personal items and buried it as deeply underneath the small stash of junk as possible. "Why should I believe you now?"

"Because she's right this time," a new voice came from across the aisle. Looking over, Ramona could see the occupant of the bed directly across from her own sitting up and staring intently in her direction. After rubbing her eyes again the outline became a bit clearer. They'd been close enough to talk throughout her stay in the ward, so she already knew who it was, but she wanted to see the patient with her own eyes, and after a quick struggle the other woman's upper body focused into a blur light enough to make out some distinguishing traits. Resting with her arms wrapped around her good leg, Nadine gave a reassuring nod. "You really don't look like Frankenstein. At all."

For a second or two Ramona was stunned. Nadine wasn't a liar. If she said something, no matter what it was, she meant it. After her initial reaction though, Ramona began to doubt again. Casualties were often the one exception to the 'always tell the truth' rule. "You're not just saying that, right?"

"Of course not," Nadine said shaking her head. "You said you didn't read much, right?"

"No," Ramona answered. "Not really."

"Well there you go."

Ramona had told Nadine that she didn't like to read, but she didn't at all see what any of that had to do with her current situation. Nadine was smart though – smarter by far than most of the Squad, and at least twice as smart as Ramona and her two friends combined by the redhead's own reckoning – so if she had a point there must have been something to it. "I don't get what that has to do with this," she said, hoping she didn't look as stupid as she felt.

"Ah," Nadine said with a smile as she sat up a little straighter. Her leg didn't afford her much room for movement, but she looked to be taking as much advantage of the little space she had as she was allowed. The woman really did look like a professor. "Well you see, if you'd actually read the book you'd have known Frankenstein was the doctor. If I can put it a little less vulgarly I think what you meant to say was that you looked like Frankenstein's monster."

The words ran through Ramona's mind a few times before she was able to translate them into something meaningful. She already knew she looked bad, and that it was never going to get much better. Still, part of her hoped that others would be understanding. If nobody ever said anything about it or if they never stopped to take notice of it would it really have been ugly? Nadine's third party confirmation of the thoughts she'd already been having killed that idea. It wouldn't be coming back. Staring up at the woman, Ramona was somehow left simultaneously too stunned and too numb to start crying again. "I look like a monster?" she asked instead.

"Oh no," Nadine cried. "That's not what I meant at all." Smile suddenly fading, the woman shifted uncomfortably on her bed. "It's just they're different characters, you know? People get that wrong all the time. You don't look like that at all, I swear. I just thought that since you don't read much…"

"I look like a monster," Ramona repeated. The words weren't directed towards anyone in particular.

"No, you don't. I didn't mean that. You look…" The temporary silence that followed gave her away too. In the course of only a few minutes two women had fallen to the same trap. "Well I…" Sighing, Nadine began to lay back. "I've got a lot of writing I've got to get back to. You look fine. I'm just going to finish some writing."

As Nadine's torso disappeared out of sight behind her bad leg and her good knee, Ramona felt Cherry's hand on her shoulder. When she'd first gone down it had been the only thing keeping her going, and it still felt reassuring on the hospital room floor. Cherry had lied, but that didn't change the fact that the girl was just about the only real friend she had left. None of her old friends from home ever wrote. They were either too drunk or too high to bother. Audrey was close, but she'd been around less than a month. Maybe in another month's time, assuming both of them lived long enough. Edy had been really nice as well. A bit brash at times, and more than a little pigheaded, but her heart had been in the right place. She hadn't. "Hey, don't worry about it," Cherry said as she squeezed a little tighter on Ramona's shoulder. The extra pressure was comforting. "You know Nadine would never have meant that. She's a sweetheart."

"Yeah," Audrey said. "Do you really think she would ever have said something like that?"

Ramona and Nadine had never been particularly close, but the Darcsen had kept her company while their platoon had been pinned down in that building. The woman read the story she was always writing out loud, and made Ramona promise not to tell anybody about it. She'd even told her a bit about her husband. There was no way in Ramona's mind that Nadine had meant she'd looked like a monster. The woman's husband was wheelchair bound – she wasn't one to be judgmental about hospital patients. It still hurt to think about. "No. I know she didn't mean it."

"Then there's no problem, right?" Cherry asked.

"No." Shaking her head Ramona let it drop forward into her hands. Any light that she'd been able to see through her closed lids disappeared. The dark was more comfortable. "She might not have meant it, but it's still true. This'll leave scars. Even after it's healed."

"Everyone here has scars, Ramona," Cherry said. "I'll have some too when this is done. It isn't just you."

The girl's voice had come a tone harsher than it had before. Still keeping her hands over her eyes, Ramona pictured the wounds Cherry had received over the past few months. She'd seen the first one with her own eyes, and while she hadn't seen the second she'd still been around to help patch it up. As she saw it there was an important distinction between the blonde's wounds and her own. "Cherry, you were shot in the ass. You can hide your scars."

"Not forever I can't!" Looking up in surprise, Ramona could see an anxious look on her friend's face. The girl was once again leaning over the edge of the bed, and she looked to be on the verge of tears herself. "Yeah, maybe you can't see them out on the street, but someday I'm going to meet Prince Charming, and when he says, 'Hey Cherry, flip around for me,' there are going to be two giant scars staring back up at him. Do you know how embarrassing that's going to be?"

Taking a quick glance around the room, it looked as if nearly every head within earshot had turned in their direction. Thankfully their faces were too blurry to make out any expressions. "Yeah," Ramona answered slowly. "I think I have an idea."

"Hey look," Audrey said before Cherry could start back up again. Her voice was much warmer and softer than Ramona had remembered it. Maybe she'd qualify for friend sooner than she'd given the girl credit for. "I'm not going to say it isn't a bit noticeable, but nobody in the Squad is going to care. You're good as long as you're with us. In the meantime we'll work something out, alright? We'll make things alright."

Ramona hadn't expected trouble with the Squad. They would understand. In fact, she'd probably fit in just fine with Musaad and Largo. It was everyone else in the world that was going to be the problem. Her father would never understand. "Alright," she said weakly.

"Good. Now all that's left is to…"

When Audrey's voice trailed off Ramona turned her head. Her friend was still lying in the same position, but she wasn't focused on either Ramona or the magazine she'd been holding. Instead, her eyes were pointed towards the woman standing at the foot of her bed. Instead of the usual nurse's outfit she was wearing a black dress, and though they were fuzzy Ramona could see that she was wearing glasses. It took her a moment to recognize the figure through the haze and without the hat, but when the woman opened her mouth there was no question as to who it was. "More comfortable on the floor there, Linton?" she asked.

"Oh, Ellet," Ramona said in surprise. Quickly turning, she picked up her own box of personal items and set it down on her mattress. Lifting herself, she sat down next to it. Ellet was just behind her and to the left. She made a point of turning her head to the right so that the woman couldn't see the left half of her face. She'd surely seen it already, but that wasn't the point. Ramona didn't want to subject herself to having to look at it again. Ellet shouldn't have been forced to either. "No, I'm just leaving actually."

"Alright," the reporter said. "Cleared and ready for duty?"

"Something like that."

"Good to hear."

"Yeah."

Turning as far onto her side as her injured arm and rear would allow, Cherry quickly waved and smiled. "Looking good there. What's the occasion? You getting back from a hot date?"

Shaking her head Ellet set her bag down next to Audrey's mattress. "No," she said as she sat down at the foot of the girl's bed. "Isara's funeral."

Cherry's smile was gone as soon as the reporter's words were out. Struck dumb a second time, she rolled back onto her stomach and blew a loose strand of hair out of her eyes. It floated in front of her face for a moment before settling back down in the exact place it had rested before. "Oh," she said a little less excitedly.

"That was today?" Audrey asked.

"Just got out half an hour ago, actually," Ellet said. "The reception is still going, but I'm not big on funerals. I figured it would be better with just her family anyway."

Her family. Welkin was the only actual family member the girl had left before she died. Ellet must have been referring to the rest of Squad 7. From the outside that might have been a good description. It was too bad that it was bullshit, or at least that it felt like it. The Squad had been a family for maybe the first two or three months of the war. Now it was a group of Militiamen held together by a number. New people came and went after every trip back to base. The girl had had to introduce herself to three fifths of the Squad every month. What was the point? "Well I'm sorry we missed it," Ramona said.

"Nah," Ellet said waving her off. "Nobody's going to hold it against you guys. They're just glad you're all OK." Stretching out a bit, she sat back and made herself comfortable. "You can make up for it though if you want."

"Oh?"

"Yep," the woman said. "O'Hara's funeral is in three days. It's being held on base. If you're getting out now you should go."

Normally the bodies were shipped back to their families for burial. Isara's only family had been in the Squad. Catherine hadn't had a family at all, or at least one that anybody knew anything about. The closest thing she had was Coby. Bodies that weren't claimed were buried near the base. He'd certainly make sure her funeral went off without a hitch, and that everyone from the Squad who was available showed up. Ramona wasn't sure if she would have been invited if the patch on her arm didn't read '7'. "Yeah," she said anyway. If showing up was only going to make things harder for everyone, what would not showing up at all say to the old man? "I should probably go to that."

"Good." Reaching into her bag, Ellet pulled out a small pad of paper and a pen. "Now if you girls don't mind I need to get my mind off of funerals. Cool if I jump straight into business?"

"What business?" Audrey asked.

"Your interview." Scribbling a couple of notes at the top of the first blank sheet she came to, Ellet turned towards the girl occupying the bed she was sitting on. "I promised you one, didn't I?"

Not wanting to get in the way Ramona picked up her box and stood up. "I think I'm going to head out now," she said without turning around. "Thanks for stopping by Ellet. I'll see you later Audrey."

"Yeah," the girl said. Her voice was lighter now. Getting the fabled interview was a milestone within the Squad. It meant you'd lived long enough to have meant something. Once that issue hit the stands Audrey would be part of the group. She was making headway within the Squad faster than just about any replacement that had come before her. Even the Lieutenant seemed a bit fond of her. "Stop by sometime, and remember what I said."

"Will do." Stepping into the aisle, Ramona began her walk to the ward's exit. It was on the opposite end of the examination rooms, but it almost looked as if she could see more patients set up on the floor near that door as well. No wonder nobody cared about people walking out. "You too, Cherry."

"Whoa, hey!" the girl called out as her friend started to walk away. Reaching for the envelopes on her bed, she held them out for Ramona to grab. "You forgot your pay."

Taking half a step back, Ramona took the letters from her friend's hand. The life insurance was a slap in the face, but pay was pay. Looking down at them, she had a hard time telling which was which. She'd recognize the paycheck once they were opened. Originally she'd planned on saving most of her money, and she'd done a good job of it up to that point. Now it just didn't seem to matter as much. "Think I can buy enough booze with this to drink myself to death?" she asked.

Cherry was shocked for a moment, but after a second or two her surprise turned into a sly smirk. "Sure," she said, "and with enough left over for extra. Pick me up something nice."

"I'll see what I can do."

Nodding happily, Cherry's hair fell back down over the edge of the bed. "What was that stuff that tastes like candy?"

Looking over, Ramona could see that Ellet and Audrey still hadn't begun their interview. Audrey was watching her two friends intently, but Ellet had her head turned in the complete opposite direction, and was obviously pretending she couldn't hear a word the two girls were saying. "Sambuca."

"Yeah," Cherry said giddily. "That. Get me a fifth of that, and then another fifth of that pomegranate vodka stuff."

"Sure." Stepping forward again, Ramona slowly began to make her way towards the exit. "I'll hide it in my footlocker for you."

"Perfect," the girl's voice came from behind as she stepped forward again. "And if you can, fetch a nurse to come help me on your way out. I have to pee."

Nodding, Ramona turned away for the last time. "Yeah, I've got you covered."

"Thanks," the girl said as her friend left. "See you later, beautiful."

Ignoring the comment, Ramona made her way down the aisle and towards the door. By the time she'd made it to the point where the patients were stuck between beds, she caught the attention of one of the nurses and told her that Cherry needed a hand. The conversation didn't last more than a few seconds, but something about it was extremely offsetting. When she'd been blind Ramona hadn't pictured the ward looking at all like it did. The nurses' voices had been warm and caring. They genuinely seemed like they'd taken pride in what they'd been doing. With her sight back she wanted nothing to do with the hospital staff. The women still spoke with the same warm voice that had comforted her when she was blind, but their expressions didn't match the caring tone of their words. It took a moment to place the problem, but when it came it hit hard – they never smiled. More than slightly disturbed, Ramona pushed through the doors and walked out into the main lobby.

As the doctor had predicted nobody stopped her on her way out. In fact, the man at the reception desk didn't even look. He had a model walking past his desk and out of his hospital and he'd never know. Probably wouldn't have cared even if he did. Hundreds of bodies moved back and forth across his lobby every day – for the first time she was just another number. Even beyond ugly, there was nothing worse than being ordinary.

Outside the sun was blinding. It took everything Ramona had to keep her eyes open wide enough to see where she was going. The light didn't only burn, but it shot through her and brought on the most severe headache she could remember. It was still better than being blind. She could still see things when she was blind, and there was nothing to look at on the outside to block them out. Her father had been a frequent visitor, along with Coby, Catherine, and that Imperial she'd shot through the facemask back in Kloden. He was in the dreams too, and as bad as the dreams had been they were pleasant compared to waking up to nothing.

Once her eyes had adjusted enough that she could at least look down at the ground without feeling like her head was going to explode, Ramona felt her way over to a bench and sat. Lifting the box onto her lap, she had to brush her uniform off of the lid before she could open it. As she moved it next to her she could see that the bloodstains had been washed off of her sleeve. The soldier who's throat she'd cut had bled all over it. Her uniform was clean now. With the man's blood gone it was almost as if it had never happened, or as if he'd never really existed in the first place. The very thought nearly sent her into a panic attack.

After tearing off the box's lid she began to sort through the contents. Most of it was crap. When she found her wallet she took it out and put it in her back pocket. She wasn't sure if there was any money in it, but at the moment it was a secondary concern. The wallet wasn't what she'd been looking for. Bringing her attention back to the box she shuffled through it once again. Within a few seconds she'd found what she'd been looking for – her lighter and Marina's pack of cigarettes. After they'd been set aside she closed the box and placed it at her feet.

Marina had given her the cigarettes to keep herself from smoking. Looking at the pack, Ramona remembered what they had felt like. They'd been nasty - the smoke had burned at her lungs and sent her coughing until she thought she was going to vomit. They smelled awful, and they tasted even worse. They also sounded like the best thing in the world at that moment. Picking up the pack, she pulled one out and looked it over. It was still a blur, but that didn't matter. Everything was a blur. "Well," she mumbled to herself as she put the cigarette in her mouth and lifted the lighter. "Shit."

* * *

Next: Engagement


	37. Engagement

**Respite 2: Engagement**

For as far back as he could remember Karl had been able to read. It had taken other children years to pick up a book. He'd been doing it practically since he could walk. The first attempts hadn't been much more than skimming over a letter or two at a time, and the strings of sounds he put together in his mind didn't actually mean anything, but all that mattered was that he'd been doing it. This time it was different. Whatever he saw in the strange series of symbols years before, Karl Landzaat was sure of one thing – he had never read anything that turned his stomach inside out like the sign in front of him.

It was a white sign and the lettering was black. There wasn't anything out of the ordinary about it. It was just a sign, and it stood in a hallway just like any other. Karl couldn't look away. He knew that if he stared much longer he was going to throw up, but the thick black lettering held his eyes hostage. He wouldn't have been able to look away to save his life. Lynn's life, even. The woman was at the root of the problem, as she always was, but she could have been bleeding to death on the floor next to him and he wouldn't have been able to look away from the sign long enough to call for help. Karl's eyes shot back and forth behind his glasses, checking, double checking, and then triple checking to make sure he'd read it right. When the letters didn't change after the fifth time through he knew it was too late. His life was over. There was only one 'M' word in a hospital that was worse, and that was 'Morgue'. This one wasn't much better – 'Maternity'.

With a soft thump a heavy hand fell on his shoulder. Still transfixed by the sign Karl was left unable to turn towards whomever it was that had managed to sneak up behind him. It wasn't until a voice accompanied the hand that gripped him that he realized it was Musaad. "You alright there, son?" the man asked. As the words left his mouth Karl felt a slight pull against his shoulder. Following the other man's guiding arm he let himself spin around until they were standing face to face. The scarred gentleman in front of him looked completely alien – he wasn't wearing his uniform, or even anything supplied by the Militia. Karl hadn't thought the man owned anything that wasn't standard issue. The blue jeans and white t-shirt the man was sporting proved him otherwise. "I've seen stares like that before," Musaad continued, "but usually the one wearing it was getting set to storm over the top."

After the initial shock of the encounter began to wear off the older man's words started to arrange themselves in Karl's head. They came one or two at a time and in fragmented chunks. Only one of them sunk in – 'Son'. "It's…" Stammering, Karl stumbled over every syllable as he worked to force a sentence together. His tongue felt five times larger than it had an hour before. "It's a boy?"

"Yeah," Mussad said with a slow nod. There was a slight haze in his eyes, and they became less and less focused with each bob of his head. "A lot of them really were no more than boys. Hell, I felt like a boy back then myself. It was hard not to, what with being half frozen and soaked to the bone at the bottom of a battered, muddy trench. There were a few times–"

"No," Karl said forcefully enough to force the man back a step. Looking over his shoulder he took another look at the sign that had been holding him hostage for the past ten minutes or so. The lettering hadn't changed. "The baby." As he said them the words echoed through his mind. Each one slammed against the inside of his skull before exploding , scrambling what little was left of his mind into a wet, soupy puddle of incomprehensible mush. "I'm talking about the baby."

As Musaad's eyes sharpened back into focus his forehead scrunched in surprise. "What baby?"

Forcing his hands into fists it took everything Karl had to keep himself from tearing out his hair. He had to ease up on the death grip when he realized he was crushing the small bouquet of flowers he had in one hand and the stack of letters he was holding in the other. The flowers were from him, and the letters were from a number of the other Squad members. All of them were for Lynn. He'd picked up the flowers on the way to the hospital. He hadn't known they'd soon be sitting in a maternity ward. "Lynn's here."

"Yeah," Musaad said. "I just visited her."

"Well what did she say?"

Blowing out a long breath, Musaad rolled his eyes back. It was clear that he was replaying the visit in his mind. Moments passed before he looked back down and shrugged. With each second of silence that passed Karl felt pieces of himself slipping away. He didn't know where they were going, but he had a feeling that they were going for good. "Nothing out of the ordinary," Musaad said after the excruciating delay. "It was a quick visit. Just wanted to make sure she was doing alright, you know? We lost a lot of good people this last week."

"Yeah, I know," Karl said. He would have felt bad about blowing off the fact that nearly the entire man's section had been wiped out in a night, but empathy wasn't something he was capable of at that moment. "But this is a maternity ward, Musaad. What is she doing here?"

"I don't know," the man said. "I didn't ask."

"What do you mean you didn't ask?" As his fingers tightened around the stack of letters in his hand Karl could feel the envelopes beginning to wrinkle. A large part of him wanted to crumple them into a ball and throw them in Musaad's face. His fist probably would have followed. Karl had nothing against the man, but he needed to take his fear and frustration out on something, and the scars running across his face were starting to look like targets. "They bring pregnant women here, not casualties. How can you visit one of your troopers without asking why she's in a maternity ward?"

Musaad's eyes fell to the bouquet Karl was holding. As he lifted them back up he dropped his hand back on the other man's shoulder. Karl knew it was coming this time, but that didn't stop the grip from feeling like a deathblow. Musaad was just short of twice his age but his fingers were made of iron. "Look Karl," he said, "I'm not a lover. I'm a fighter, and I always have been. You are, though, and what you and Lynn do when you're not in the trenches is none of my concern. So long as you're using the right rifle at the right time I couldn't care less."

When the man's mouth closed Karl debated looking back over his shoulder. The scarred man had taken his time getting his words across, and the sign might have changed in the time he'd eaten up spewing them out. In the end he didn't take a second look. He didn't think his heart could take seeing those letters written out again. Instead he did his best to keep himself from breaking down in front of Musaad. The older man had likely seen many men like Karl fall apart on the front lines or in hospitals before, but he'd probably never seen it in a maternity ward. As Karl guessed he'd never even stepped foot in one.

Before he could think of anything to say Musaad's hand fell off of his shoulder. The man couldn't have understood, but he seemed to be trying his best to get an idea of what was going through Karl's head. There was no way he could have known, but somehow just the effort gave the engineer a surge of confidence. "Are those for her?" Musaad asked gesturing towards the bouquet in the young man's hand.

Karl had no idea what kind of flowers he was carrying, and he didn't particularly care. He'd never been a flower person. Lynn, however, was, and his first visit to one of the city's flower shops ended in frustration. Thankfully Jane had volunteered to give him a hand the next time he gave it an attempt, and after telling that 'incompetent bitch of a florist' to 'piss off' after what she had considered 'taking the art of floristry and shitting all over it' she jumped behind the counter and put together something special. At least, Karl assumed it was something special. The way the woman had gone on about it had certainly convinced him of it. "Yeah," he said. The floor was suddenly the most interesting thing in the room.

"They look really nice."

"Thanks."

Sighing, Musaad took a step back. Though he was clearly headed towards the ward's exit he didn't turn away from the helpless man in front of him. Kicking at the floor, he absently slapped at his thigh with the palm of his hand. "Well," he started awkwardly, "she's been waiting for you. You should probably go see her."

There were dozens of separate rooms down the hallway Karl was left standing in. He couldn't see the numbers, but one of the nurses had already pointed the one he was looking for out. It was the third on the left. He'd been dying to see Lynn for the past week, but now that the hospital was finally allowing her visitors and he'd found out where she was staying he considered coming back another time. After a second's worth of thought he realized he was better off going through with it. If he didn't visit then Lynn would surely throw a fit, assuming he survived the butchering Jane would have dealt him for not delivering those flowers. "Yeah," he said absently. Karl didn't listen for the shuffling of Musaad's feet as he left the ward. The scarred figure wouldn't have been any help anyway. He was a veteran of many battles, but he had absolutely no experience in dealing with what was about to come. Taking a deep breath, Karl removed his glasses and put them in his pocket. The less he could read of that sign or any others ahead the better. Taking one last moment to clear his head he uttered a quick prayer. He already knew it wouldn't do him any good. Karl was a man now, and he was alone.

Shifting the bouquet into the hand holding the letters, he slowly made his way to the door and reached for the handle. The metal was cool, and it felt good against the hot tips of his fingers. He was burning up – it felt like the hospital was on fire. Karl knew better. Holding his hand out, he swallowed hard and pushed against the handle. It didn't budge. He could see it in front of him, and he could see his arm connected to it, but the arm itself wasn't moving. It was stuck. Lynn was on the other side of the door. He hadn't seen her since he'd pulled her out of that mess back in Rodez. Karl wanted to see her face more than anything, but his hand was frozen on the door handle. There wasn't an Imperial within three hundred miles of where he was standing, but he felt like an entire platoon of the armored figures had their rifles trained on his head. It might have even been preferable.

In his daze he hadn't noticed that when he'd relaxed his arm the limbs weight pressed down on the handle, and when the door began to slowly drift open in front of him he nearly passed out. Over the past few months he'd learned many things – that he wasn't ready for fatherhood was just one of them. With each inch the door swung he knew he was himself swinging further and further from freedom. Cezary had been right. Karl didn't regret having asked Lynn to marry him, but the thought of raising children in the middle of a war dropped his stomach through the floor. He didn't know the Alliance's policy on half-Darcsen children, but he'd seen what they'd done in Fouzen and that was far more than enough. The images didn't fade as Lynn's face came into view.

She was lying in a small bed, and only her head was raised high enough to shoot up off of the mattress. The woman was clearly looking though, and from her face Karl could tell she'd been waiting. Unable to step into the room he stood helplessly in the doorway. Even stranded in the hospital bed Lynn was absolutely gorgeous, and while she was still framed by the burning shacks of the labor camp they seemed a lot more distant than they had moments before. He still wasn't able to walk forward as his arm fell back down to his side, however, and when the door slammed shut in his face with a loud crash he dropped the stack of letters and the bouquet of flowers he'd been holding, scattering the envelopes all over the floor outside her door.

"You can come in, you know," he heard Lynn's muffled voice call through the door. With a groan Karl knelt down and sorted through the handful that had fallen to the ground. She was waiting – had been waiting for the past week – and he'd made a fool of himself. It wasn't the first time he'd done it in front of her, and it certainly wouldn't be the last, but for some reason he felt their entire relationship hinged on this reunion. Nearly breaking into tears he jumbled the letters into a messy pile, picked up the flowers, and walked through the door.

Lynn hadn't moved and, to his surprise, was smiling. He was probably smiling as well – he wasn't quite sure. All he knew for certain was that seeing her smiling was the only thing in the world he needed. Then his eyes dropped to her stomach, and he could feel his expression change. Was it bulging? He was pretty sure he could see it bulging. She hadn't looked fat before, but it was hard to tell with so much equipment strapped on. In a hospital gown, on the other hand… definitely a bit of a bulge. It was hardly noticeable, but it had to have been there. Fuck.

"Oh no," Lynn said as her own smile faded. She'd seen his sudden expression change, and he knew she didn't like it. The woman was probably just as nervous about the idea as he was. "You didn't talk to Musaad on your way in, did you?"

Wanting to lie, Karl walked further into the room to buy time. From the look on her face he guessed Lynn wanted him to lie too. Even if they both knew the truth they could at least pretend they didn't. He'd already opened his mouth when he realized he couldn't do it. He was going to be a father, and fathers had to face the truth. "Yeah," he said. "I talked to him."

"And he told you, didn't he?"

"He…" Karl thought back to their conversation. Had Musaad told him Lynn was pregnant? As he remembered the man had told him he didn't ask. In fact, he'd implied they hadn't talked about why she was in that particular wing of the hospital. Sitting down in a chair next to Lynn's bed Karl grimaced. The old man was a lying bastard. "He said you didn't really talk about it."

Lynn nodded. "Good," she said. "I'm at least glad he didn't outright say it." The woman looked a little relieved, but Karl could still tell she was nervous. He didn't blame her. "You know though, right?"

"Yeah."

With a long sigh Lynn dropped her head back down onto her pillow. It looked a lot more comfortable than the hard tile floor she'd been lying on when he'd last seen her. He couldn't believe it had already been a week. "Alright." Twisting her neck she rolled her head until Karl found himself looking her in the eyes again. As beautiful as they were he couldn't help but notice the worry in them. It was something he didn't see often. "Look," she said anxiously, "I know this is really important and all, but there are only ten minutes left for visiting hours. Can we just get through them this one time without saying the 'P' word?"

Karl wanted to say yes. He really wasn't looking forward to the conversation ahead of them, and spending the rest of his visit not having to worry about it would have been the greatest relief he could possibly imagine. It wasn't going to last though, and the conversation needed to happen. He'd cowered down and ran from bullets before – he wasn't going to have to look his kid in the eyes and tell the little Landzaat he'd run from this as well. "Lynn, this is kind of important. We should probably talk about this."

He thought Lynn would have understood. In fact, he'd been imagining she'd commend him for being brave – thank him even. Instead she looked like she was going to cry. "I've been waiting for them to allow me visitors for a Goddamn week, Karl. You've only got ten minutes, and I just can't deal with this right now, alright?" It was over. He knew that he'd go along with whatever she wanted. She probably knew it too. "Besides," she said with a half smile. When he saw the expression Karl began to grin himself. He could last a day without having to worry about anything. That could wait for another time. "I don't want to have this conversation in front of Susie."

"Yeah, that's probably–" Stopping mid sentence, Karl felt his head tilt to the side. His glasses nearly slid off, and he had to bring his hand up to keep them from falling off of his nose. "Wait, what?"

"Hey Karl." Turning his head towards the voice, Karl had a hard time recognizing the face. He already knew who it was – the curls gave the woman away – but he couldn't justify the figure in front of him being treated in the room she was in. It was definitely Susie though. There was no mistaking it. "I wanted to say something when you walked in," she continued, "but you were so focused on Lynn that I didn't want to interrupt."

Looking back and forth between the two women in the beds Karl tried to make sense of what the blonde was doing sharing a room with his future wife. He already knew why Lynn was there – that was his own fault. Susie was a mystery. She'd always been so soft spoken and proper. There were many possible ways she could have found herself in the maternity ward, and as each one of them ran through Karl's mind they became progressively worse and worse. "Who…" Fighting for words, he took his glasses off and placed them on the side table. They weren't helping. "Who put you in here?"

That last thing he saw before something struck the back of his head was the uncomfortable look Susie spread across her face. Thankfully he didn't have to look at it long before his head jerked forward and down into his chest. "What the Hell, Karl?" Lynn yelled. Her pillow was now lying on the room's floor. That must have been her weapon of choice. "Did you seriously just ask that? Don't be dense."

"I'm sorry," he said rubbing the back of his head. The pillow had been soft, and it had hurt his pride more than his body. It didn't sting any less. "I just wasn't expecting you'd be here."

Though she still looked a tad anxious, Susie shrugged and let herself smile. "Well," she said, "neither was I, really. These things happen though. Not much you can really do."

Laughing nervously, Karl nodded. "I guess not," he said. Now that she'd mentioned it she was looking a little bigger herself. Just barely. He hadn't noticed it until she'd said anything about it.

For a few moments the three of them sat in silence. Karl had expected the trip to be awkward as soon as he'd realized what part of the hospital he was visiting. He hadn't expected Susie to be there as well. That just made everything worse. Thankfully the woman knew how to keep the ball rolling. "Are those for me?" she asked pointing at the flowers in his hand.

Looking down Karl realized he was still holding the bouquet. They weren't just beautiful anymore – they were a lifesaver. Handing them and the letters over would surely take up what little time he had remaining in his visit. It hurt that he couldn't stay longer, but at the same time he was glad for the out. It would give him at least a night to regroup and clear his head before he came back for a second visit. "Oh, right." Shifting the flowers into his open hand, he turned back to Lynn's bed and held them out for her. "These are for you," he said as he passed them into her hands.

"They're really pretty," she said. "Did you pick them yourself?"

Chuckling, Karl scratched his head before letting his hand fall into his lap. "Something like that," he said. "I had Turner put them together for me. She knows more about this kind of stuff than I do. I was kind of worried they wouldn't let me bring them into the hospital, but nobody stopped me so I figured it was alright. Jane probably would have come here and shot the place up if they'd turned me away and I came back without delivering them to you the way she was acting putting them together."

"That's sweet of her." Setting the flowers aside Lynn pointed towards Karl's other hand. "What are those?"

The letters. Lifting them up, Karl began to pass them over to her. There wasn't one from every member of the Squad – or even a quarter of the Squad – but it was still a pretty hefty stack. He guessed that people connected with the fact that two of their Squad mates were getting married, even if one of them was Darcsen. It really did make for a cute story. People tended to cling to that kind of stuff, especially considering what they had all been through. "They're for you too," he said smiling. "Part of the Squad got together and wrote out some 'get well' cards."

"They did that for me?" she asked picking the top envelope up and flipping it over in her hands. "Can I open them now?"

"They're your cards," Karl said. Reading a card or two would kill time. He'd excuse himself after one or two of the things and make his way out. He'd been dying to see Lynn, but now that he'd confirmed with his own eyes that she was safe he could last another day or so. Her smiling face was all he'd needed to see. "You can open them any time."

"Alright then," she said. Once more she looked the envelope in her hands over. "This one doesn't have a name on it."

Karl took a quick glance. It was blank. That was fine – there were a number of letters he'd picked up that hadn't had names on them. Most of the Squad mates had just signed the card. It had made things difficult when he was keeping them all accounted for, but in the long run it hadn't been a big deal, and he hadn't gone after them for it. "Some of them aren't marked on the outside," he said. "Check the card."

Shrugging, Lynn tore into the envelope and pulled out the card. As soon as it was clear she smiled. "That's cute," she said holding it up for him and Susie to see. "It's got kittens on it."

The cover of the card had a picture of two little cats playing with a ball of yarn. Karl didn't think it was particularly cute, but he'd never been a cat person. Last he remembered Lynn hadn't either. "Yeah," he said playing along. It was almost too cute, and he had a hard time taking it seriously. In the end it was probably supposed to be like that though – a feel good card. That one must have been from Dorothy or some other young woman in the unit. "Cute."

"Well let's see what it says." Opening the card her eyes began to skim across the lettering as she read the words out loud. "Dear Lynn," she said, "I'm so glad to hear that you're doing well and recovering in a safe place. These last few months have been rough on all of us, and some rest off of the line will surely do you some good. I wish it were under better circumstances, but I'm sure Karl will be there to make sure you're comfortable and kept good company." Blushing slightly she looked up and gave the man a quick wink before continuing on. "I have no doubt that you'll have nothing to worry about with him around. Always remember that. Karl is a good man, so don't–"

When Lynn's smile faded Karl sat forward in his seat. Her eyes hadn't stopped moving, but she wasn't reading out loud anymore. Trying to get a better look he edged his head around in an attempt to read over her shoulder. All he could see were the two kittens on the cover. "Lynn?"

Clearing her throat, the woman looked up at him briefly before dropping back down to the card and continuing from where she'd left off. "So don't turn around and fuck him in the ass like all of those other Darkie sluts from that shithole of a ghetto you walked out of. Stay safe, and I hope to see you up and around soon. Sincerely, Cezary Regard."

Neither of them spoke after she'd let the card fall down onto her stomach. For a few moments they stared off into nothingness. "I'm really sorry," Karl said when nothing else came to mind. There were still a good number of envelopes left. He kicked himself for not reading the letters first and sealing them up personally. "I probably should have screened those."

"No," Lynn said. He was surprised to see that she was still smiling. In fact, she looked happier than he'd seen her look in a long while. "I'm honored, actually." Lifting the card back up, she handed it over to him and gestured towards the side table. "Why don't you set it up right there. It's not every day Regard writes me a get well card. I want it front and center."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," she said. "And make sure you thank him for me."

"I'll uh…" If Lynn hadn't asked he probably would have punched Cezary in the face the next time he saw him. He was glad Lynn didn't feel he needed to defend her honor or some other antiquated crap. "I'll buy him a drink or something."

"Good."

When she reached for another envelope Karl took a look at the clock. He still had about two minutes, but he figured Lynn could use a little extra rest. While he'd been late showing up, Musaad had been in before him, and he was almost certain there were others who had stopped by even earlier. It wouldn't do to wear her out. "Hey Lynn," he said reaching out for her hand. It felt great to finally hold it again, and for a moment he considered sticking around a little while longer. After a quick debate he decided otherwise. "We're going to have to talk later, but I should get going for the night. I'll try to swing by tomorrow afternoon though. Catherine's funeral is at noon, but it should be out before visiting hours end."

"Are you sure you can't stay?" she said. It was almost a plea. "I don't think they'll really care. Susie wouldn't mind either."

"Nope," the other woman said. "Stay as long as you want."

Karl could feel his heart sinking. The invitation was almost too good to pass up, but he knew it would be better for everyone if he came back the next day. He'd been begging for a chance to walk out the door, but now that he actually had to leave he was more than a little disappointed. "I can't," he said as he stood up from the chair. "You two need your rest. Especially now that you're both sleeping for two."

Karl had turned and marched halfway to the door before Lynn's voice cut him short. "Wait, what?" she asked.

Turning, he could see Susie and his fiancée staring up at him. Their faces were blank, and the blonde's had gone completely pale. Sitting up in her hospital gown she looked like a ghost. Lynn was only lifting her head, but she didn't look a whole lot better. "You know," he explained. "That word you didn't want to use. The 'P' one."

"I don't understand."

From the woman's expression things were going downhill fast. The door he'd been dreading walking through for the second time was starting to look very welcoming again. Putting his glasses back on, he let out a heavy sigh and shook his head. "Look, I know you didn't want to talk about this," he said, "but we need to be straight with each other. You were wounded and you need to rest. We're lucky enough the baby made it through all of this as is."

Any color that had been left in her face drained before his eyes. As Susie's body dropped out of sight she let her own head fall into her mattress. "Oh, Goddammit," she said closing her eyes and bringing her hands up to cover her face. "What did Musaad tell you?"

"Nothing," he said raising his own hands. There wasn't anything for him to ward off, but he felt safer with the buffer between the two of them. He could get away with quite a bit, but Lynn was a demon when he actually made her angry, and she let him know it when he did. "It's just… since you're pregnant and all I figured–"

"Paralyzed, Karl," she moaned into her hands. Her voice was breaking as she spoke. "They only put us in the maternity ward because they're out of room everywhere else. I'm paralyzed, not pregnant."

"Para…" He'd heard the words, and he'd even begun speaking them, but they didn't make a whole lot of sense to him. They jumbled around in his mind before falling to pieces. He would have needed a dictionary to figure them out. "What?"

"I really didn't want to have this conversation today," she said. Her hands were still covering her face, and they muffled the words as they came out. In his state it would have been difficult for Karl to catch them even if they'd come out clear. With the added interference he struggled to string the syllables together. "I can't move my leg. I guess… I guess that makes me a cripple now."

"Oh." As it all came together Karl took another look at the door. He didn't have the heart to walk through it. His own legs suddenly felt like lead weights. Putting one of the heavy, clumsy limbs in front of the other he walked back to the chair he'd left and sat back down. Lynn still wasn't looking. For a while he searched for something to say, but nothing came to mind. He was feeling surprisingly numb himself. Licking his lips, he decided to go with the positive. Anything positive would do. "Well, at least you're not a pregnant cripple, right?"

When Lynn's hands fell from her face Karl wasn't sure how to read the woman's expression. He could always tell when she was pissed. That one was easy. Happy was a piece of cake as well, and the wonderful thing about the woman was that she always let him know it. For better or worse Karl could read her like a book. Unfortunately the book he was currently reading was written in something he'd never seen before. "Yeah," she said nodding her head.

As alien as the new language was bits and pieces of it translated through as Lynn's head bobbed up and down. When he'd walked in the room there had only been one 'P' word, and it had been the worst 'P' word in the entire world. Now there were two 'P' words, and the one he had been worried about when he'd walked in was the lesser of them – and it wasn't the one they were facing. Slowly but surely her expression began to make sense. Karl wasn't surprised to see that it was fear. He was surprised when it was a fear he didn't recognize. Lynn had been terrified before. She'd been under fire more than once, and he'd been there next to her to witness it. It wasn't the same fear he saw when she was worried about getting hit. The woman could handle that. She wasn't afraid of bullets, just as she wasn't afraid of 'pregnant' or 'paralyzed' – she was afraid that he was.

"And uh…" Lynn was still staring up at him. Her eyes were always beautiful, but he couldn't look at them. The fear sent shivers down his own spine. Glancing frantically around the room he looked for something else positive. Susie's head was still pressed as low into the mattress as the woman could manage to push it, but he could still see the outline of her body beneath the bed sheets. Suddenly she looked a lot less pregnant than she had a few moments before. "I assume we won't have to save up for Susie's baby shower either, do we?"

"No," the woman in question yelled out almost immediately.

Karl still couldn't see Susie, but from the look on Lynn's face it was probably for the best. He didn't think he could stand the two of them staring up at him. It probably would have killed him right then and there. "Good." It was a bit of a relief, but in the end the blonde wasn't as important to him as his fiancée. Still, she was a Squad mate, and any relief to her would surely be a relief to Lynn as well. "And…" With a smile Karl turned back to where the woman was lying. She carried the same fearful expression that she'd been wearing before, but it didn't bother him anymore. A different thought had just run through his mind. "This means they're sending you home, right?"

Lynn didn't look much happier at his observation, but the look of fear in her eyes subsided a bit. It was replaced with something he found much more familiar, and quite a bit more heartening – confusion. "Yeah," she said slowly.

"And Susie?" he said without turning away from the woman in front of him.

"Well," the other woman said slowly, "I kind of don't have a knee anymore."

Though Susie wouldn't have been able to see it, Karl nodded. He'd carried her out of the ruined building, but he'd forgotten how badly she'd been injured. The bullet had taken most of the woman's joint with it as it tunneled its way through her leg. She wouldn't be able to put any weight on it for months, and it would be a very long time before she was up and walking on it the same way again – if ever. Odds were Susie was just as crippled as Lynn. "Then you two are going to have to take care of each other back in the world," Karl said. "You got that Susie? Make sure Lynn gets all the rest she needs. I know how she likes to burn her candles down."

"Sure thing," Susie said. Out of the corner of his eye Karl could see her head lift up above her shoulders again, and a little bit of confidence returned to her voice. "I already told her she could stay at my place if things didn't–" Catching herself, she covered the gap with a mock coughing fit.

It didn't fool anyone, least of all Karl. 'If things didn't work out.' The words echoed in his head a few times before cementing themselves in the back of his mind. They made him sick to his stomach. For the first time he realized just how deep Lynn's fear ran. There were many things Karl had run from in his lifetime. He wasn't going to add this onto the list. "I think that'd be good for both of you," he said. He was still smiling, and he could tell from her expression that Lynn was having just as difficult a time of reading him as he'd had a minute before in reading her. "At least, until the war ends and I can take her back to Fouzen. That still sound alright, Lynn?"

The woman didn't move for a long while. When she finally did, her face softened into something else Karl had never seen before. He couldn't read it, and unlike before nothing slowly started piecing itself together in his mind. While he'd thought he could read everything she threw his way, a single expression told him he still had a long, long way to go. He was alright with that. "You know, visiting hours are over," she said with a quick glance at the clock.

Karl looked back. Sure enough the big hand was already two minutes into the hour. It was time for him to go, but he didn't have to look back at the door to know that his butt wasn't leaving the chair. Lynn was afraid that he would be terrified of the 'P' word, and she was right – he was terrified. Knowing her he was more afraid of it than she was. That was alright. If she could deal with it so could he. There were thousands of words in the dictionary that started with all sorts of letters, and so long as Lynn was willing they'd scratch each one off as it came together. If the first one they tackled had to start with a 'P' then so be it. "Actually I think I changed my mind," he said. "I'll stick around for a while."

He still couldn't read her, but through the mysterious expression the faintest hint of her own smile forced its way into view. It was far more than Karl had ever needed. "How long?" she asked quietly.

Karl glanced back at the clock on the wall, but he didn't bother reading it. The time didn't matter and he honestly didn't care. It had been a long week, and there were going to be many long weeks ahead of him, but for the time being it didn't matter. There really wasn't anywhere else he wanted to be. "As long as I can," he said. When he turned back he knew he wouldn't be leaving for a long time. It had been difficult for him to look into her eyes before, but now he found that he couldn't look away. Behind him the big hand moved another tick along the clock's face.

* * *

Next: The Seeker


	38. The Seeker

**A/N: ** I've been told as far as content goes I could probably change the rating to T, so I did. I'm not changing anything in regards to content in past or future chapters. If anyone objects (now or further down the line), let me know. I won't change content, but rating only takes a button. 780 will stay M.

Beta'd by Huhn.

* * *

**The Seeker**

Juno was in seventh grade when she learned she was average. Her teacher, a plump, middle-aged woman named Mrs. Miller, had posted a public class ranking on the wall outside of her homeroom. Juno found herself at the very top of the bottom third. It was the first time she had ever sworn in public.

Seven years later, she still struggled. Juno began her second semester at Randgriz's Guilford College with a C- average. Her mother had been mortified, and her father threatened to pull her out of school if she didn't improve. Humiliated, she walked into her first class and took a seat in the middle of the third row of the lecture hall. The class was Introduction to Biology, and she was determined to write down everything the professor said. Opening her notebook, she pulled out a pen and prepared for the lesson.

She hadn't heard a word of the lecture. She spent the whole time focusing on the man who sat scribbling notes six seats to her left in the first row. He leaned forward against his desk as if his life depended on the next word that came out of the professor's mouth. She had never seen anyone so absorbed in a lesson. Juno walked out of the class having learned one thing: she didn't know who the man was, but she wanted to love learning as much as he did.

Three more years, and Juno was a Platoon Sergeant in that man's Squad. When Welkin had told her he was holding off on finishing their final semester in order to join the Militia, she didn't ask any questions. Instead, she went with him to the recruitment office and they swore their oath together. She had even declined a starting position as a Lieutenant leading her own Squad in order to stick with him. When they offered to make her a First Sergeant in another unit instead, she declined that too. They dropped her into Squad 7 as a Buck Sergeant, and she couldn't have been happier—or more frustrated.

Juno's mood flipped between the two by the day. Today, it was frustrated. With Aisha in tow, she stormed down the main walkway of Randgriz Park. The path was lined on one side with a small stone wall and hand railing, and on the other side of that wall sat Randgriz Park's Lake Endlam. There wasn't a cloud in the sky. Juno didn't notice. She was too focused on looking for Welkin.

She'd expected him to be in the park. It wasn't like the forests and fields outside of Bruhl, but the park had enough wildlife to keep him busy. He'd spent most of his breaks there the last few times Squad 7 stopped off in Randgriz. Usually he would root for bugs in the gardens, or sit just off a nature trail to watch birds.

With the assault on Rodez immediately having followed the landings on Marberry Shore, Juno hadn't had much time to talk to him. At least, not about his sister. It seemed like every time they had met since her death, their discussion stayed focused on orders. Now that the post battle debriefings were finally winding down, she felt she should be there for him.

He needed time away from his responsibilities as a Lieutenant, and Juno had the perfect idea. Welkin had always wanted to be a teacher—giving Aisha a nature lesson would make for the perfect distraction. It'd be great for Welkin, and Aisha would love it too. After the lesson, she figured they could drop Aisha back off at the base and talk like they used to.

They didn't find him. Juno had a nagging suspicion who he was with. Coming into the Squad, Juno figured everything was going to continue as it had in college. They'd go on nature walks together, and meet up to relax in their free time. She hadn't counted on Alicia.

Anyone in the Squad could see that Welkin and Alicia had grown close. By the time the Squad had hit Barious, it was clear their relationship wasn't strictly professional. It frustrated Juno to no end, because even though she saw that Welkin and Alicia were more than just friends, she found she couldn't hate her.

Not that she hadn't tried. In the heat of the Barious Desert, Juno had committed to making a list of everything about the woman she hated. She'd given up writing within ten minutes—not because she hadn't found anything she didn't like about her, but because for every trait she wrote, she had come up with two qualities in Alicia that she admired. Once she realized how much respect she had for her, they became best friends.

In fact, she became one of the best friends Juno had ever had. In her dreams, Alicia had played the maid of honor when she married Welkin. Now that it was clear she was only a friend, she had nightmares of becoming Alicia's maid of honor, and it was becoming clear that the nightmare was closer to reality than the dream. There was no way she could compete with Alicia. She was only average, after all. She couldn't even bring herself to hate the woman who stole her dream. Pathetic.

Juno was pulled from her thoughts when she felt a tug on her sleeve. She turned to see Aisha staring up at her, one hand clinging to the fabric of her uniform. "Can we slow down?" she asked.

Aisha may have been a trooper, but she was only twelve, and a foot and a half shorter. "Sorry," Juno replied. In her rush to find Welkin, she hadn't noticed how fast she was walking. For each step she took, Aisha needed to take a step and a half.

"It's okay. I just don't want to get left behind."

When she was the girl's age, Juno had spent her days in the meadow behind her house, not the gloom of the Militia barracks. Aisha would never have admitted to needing a break, but Juno could tell she was winded. She pretended she was tired herself. "How about we take a bit of a rest then? I could use a break."

Aisha answered with a smile that seeped a childish innocence Juno hadn't been able to produce since she was fourteen. It wasn't too hot, so stepping off the path to hunker under the trees lining the walkway wasn't necessary. Juno wanted to get a view of the lake anyway. A bevy of swans had made it their home. Whether they found Welkin or not, Aisha would get her lesson.

The park was crowded, and finding a secluded spot on the wall would be tough. People lined the barrier almost as far as Juno could see. Most of them were wearing uniforms. She had almost given up on finding a spot when she noticed a pair of Militiamen ahead. One of them was a large, muscular man, and the other was a comparatively tiny girl with crutches – Jann and Dallas. "Alright," she said, grabbing Aisha's hand, "looks like we've got friends. What do you say we stop by and say hello?"

Aisha nodded. "Sure!"

As they walked towards them, Juno found their positions reversed. Aisha was in the lead, and she was all but dragging her along. Before Juno could match pace, she saw Jann glance up. Somehow he whipped up a smile that matched Aisha's. "Hey there," he said. He tapped Dallas on the shoulder and pointed them out. "How are you ladies today?"

"Super," Aisha said.

Jann laughed and patted her on the head. "That's great." He turned to Juno. "And you, June?"

"Just fine." As she spoke to Jann, she looked into Dallas's eyes. Dallas was smiling, but her eyes were red. It looked like she'd been crying. "Yourself?"

"Just fabulous."

Jann sounded genuine, but it seemed Aisha noticed Dallas's tears as well. "Then what's the matter?" she asked.

"It's nothing," Dallas replied, wiping her arm across her face. "I'm fine."

Jann put his hand on Dallas's shoulder. "We were just talking about some adult things, sweetie. Nothing you have to worry about for a few more years."

Aisha didn't look happy with that answer, but Juno stepped forward before she could pout. That particular nature lesson could wait for another day. "I hate to jump onto other things, but have either of you seen Welkin around?"

"Yeah," Jann said. "He passed through here earlier. Said he wanted to check out those swans."

Of course he had. In any case, Juno had stopped by the park too late. "Did he say where he was headed?"

"Can't remember. You remember, Dallas honey?"

"The hospital."

Jann snapped his fingers. "That's right. He went to the Hospital with Alicia. Said they were going to visit some of our wounded warriors."

Nodding, Juno rested her forearms on the wall. She couldn't give him the distraction she wanted to at the hospital. "I guess somebody has to keep those nurses from jumping on Salinas," she said, hoping a touch of humor would mask her disappointment. "He's a charmer."

"He's a pig," Dallas said.

"He's not that bad." He was a bit of a flirt, but he was reliable. If she hadn't been in love with Welkin, she might have had a crush on him. "I'll bet he's having the time of his life right now with all those nurses waiting on him."

Jann stepped next to her on the wall. He had a grimace on his face that said, _I hate to be a downer, but…. _"Actually, he's not doing so hot."

"Huh?"

"I stopped by to visit him earlier. His heart's pretty torn up."

Aisha cocked her head. "I thought he was hit in the shoulder."

Jann brought his hand to his chest and tapped. "Wasn't the bullet that did the damage."

Juno should have seen that coming. Freesia. She'd been the one woman in the world who could have tamed Salinas. Now she was missing. "That's rough."

Jann moved the hand pressed against his chest to his shoulder. "His shoulder will be healed by the time we ship out again. The rest of him…."

"I'll keep an eye on him." She'd have to visit soon. Not just Salinas, but the rest of her squad mates, too. She'd been so busy preparing for Catherine's funeral that she hadn't gotten the chance to stop by the hospital. It was difficult to believe the funeral was already coming up the next day, and even harder to think about. If Alicia had become her best friend, Catherine had been her role model. She didn't believe she could think about it without bursting into tears, so she pushed the thought aside. Welkin wasn't the only person who needed a distraction—she needed one herself. Maybe that was part of the reason she proposed Welkin's lesson in the first place. "How about it, Aisha?" She nodded further down the path. "You ready to get back on the road?"

Aisha's signature smile shone through Juno's slump. As disturbing as it was, it was nice having a little girl around. "Are Jann and Dallas coming?"

"They're more than welcome, but if they've still got things to talk about then—"

"Not at all," Jann said. "I think everything that needed saying was said. Right, Dallas?"

Dallas nodded. Her eyes were starting to dry. "I'd love a walk." She paused. "Or a hobble," she said, hoisting her crutches.

"Then let's get hobbling." Jann did an impression of a man walking with crutches that made Aisha giggle. Even Dallas laughed. Juno didn't. She didn't think it wasn't funny—a distant voice in her mind told her she should be howling—it just didn't bring any feeling. Her mind was preoccupied. A funeral, a hospital visit, and Welkin. Always Welkin.

As much as she loved Aisha, Jann, and Dallas, she didn't love them the way she loved Welkin, and they weren't the company she'd been looking for. If all she was ever going to be to him was a friend, she at least wanted to be there for him—even if only in that role. It didn't seem she could do even that. After letting the others take a few seconds' head start, she stepped away from the wall with a heavy sigh and walked down the path behind them.

* * *

Next: Man of the Hour


End file.
